A King at VerrieresAre you fit only to be flung down like the corpse of a nation, itssoul gone and its veins emptied of blood?
(From the Bishop's address, delivered in the Chapel of SaintClement)On the third of September, at ten o'clock in the evening, a mountedconstable aroused the whole of Verrieres by galloping up the main street;he brought the news that His Majesty the King of — was coming the following Sunday, and it was now Tuesday. The Prefect authorised, that isto say ordered, the formation of a Guard of Honour; he must be receivedwith all the pomp possible. A courier was sent to Vergy. M. de Renal arrived during the night and found the whole town in a ferment. Everybody was claiming a right to something; those who had no other dutywere engaging balconies to see the King enter the town.
Who was to command the Guard of Honour? M. de Renal saw at oncehow important it was, in the interest of the houses that would have to bemoved back, that M. de Moirod should fill this post. It might be held toconstitute a claim to the place of Principal Deputy. There was nothing tobe said against M. de Moirod's devotion; it went beyond all comparison,but he had never ridden a horse in his life. He was a man of six andthirty, timid in every way, and equally afraid of falls and of beinglaughed at.
The Mayor sent for him at five o'clock in the morning.
'You see, Sir, that I am asking your advice, as though you already occupied the post in which all right-minded people would gladly see you.
In this unfortunate town the manufacturers prosper, the Liberal Partyare becoming millionaires, they aspire to power, they will forge themselves weapons out of everything. We must consider the King's interests,those of the Monarchy, and above all those of our holy religion. To whom do you think, Sir, that we ought to entrust the command of theGuard of Honour?'
In spite of the horrible fear that a horse inspired in him, M. de Moirodended by accepting this honour like a martyr. 'I shall manage to adoptthe right manner,' he told the Mayor. There was barely time to overhaulthe uniforms which had been used seven years before on the passage of aPrince of the Blood.
At seven, Madame de Renal arrived from Vergy with Julien and thechildren. She found her drawing-room full of Liberal ladies who werepreaching the union of parties, and had come to implore her to make herhusband find room in the Guard of Honour for theirs. One of them asserted that if her husband were not chosen he would go bankrupt fromgrief. Madame de Renal sent them all packing at once. She seemedgreatly occupied.
Julien was surprised and even more annoyed by her making a mysteryto him of what was disturbing her. 'I thought as much,' he told himselfbitterly, 'her love is eclipsed by the joy of receiving a King in her house.
All this excitement dazzles her. She will begin to love me again when herbrain is no longer troubled by ideas of caste.'
The surprising thing was that he loved her all the more for this.
The upholsterers began to invade the whole house, he long watched invain for an opportunity of saying a word to her. At length he found hercoming out of his own room, carrying one of his coats. They were alone.
He tried to speak to her. She made off, declining to listen to him. 'What afool I am to be in love with a woman like that, ambition makes her just asstupid as her husband.'
She was even more so: one of her great wishes, which she had neverconfessed to Julien, for fear of shocking him, was to see him discard, ifonly for a day, his gloomy black coat. With an ingenuity truly admirablein so natural a woman, she secured, first from M. de Moirod, and thenfrom the Sub-Prefect M. de Maugiron, that Julien should be appointed tothe Guard of Honour in preference to five or six young men, sons ofmanufacturers in easy circumstances, at least two of whom were of anexemplary piety. M. Valenod, who was reckoning on lending his carriage to the prettiest women of the town, in order to have his fine Norman horses admired, agreed to let Julien, the person he hated most, haveone of them. But each of the members of the Guard of Honour possessedor had borrowed one of those sky-blue coats with a pair of colonel'sepaulettes in silver, which had shone in public seven years before.
Madame de Renal wanted a new coat, and she had but four days inwhich to send to Besancon, and to procure from there the uniform, theweapons, the hat, and all the other requisites for a Guard of Honour.
What is rather amusing is that she thought it imprudent to have Julien'scoat made at Verrieres. She wished to take him by surprise, him and thetown.
The work of organising the Guard of Honour and popular feeling finished, the Mayor had next to deal with a great religious ceremony; theKing of —— refused to pass through Verrieres without paying a visit tothe famous relic of Saint Clement which is preserved at Bray-le-Haut, ashort league from the town. The clergy must be present in full force, andthis was the most difficult thing to arrange; M. Maslon, the new cure,was determined, at any price, to keep M. Chelan out. In vain did M. deRenal point out to him the imprudence of this action. The Marquis de LaMole, whose ancestors for so long were Governors of the Province, hadbeen chosen to accompany the King of ——. He had known the abbeChelan for thirty years. He would be certain to inquire for him on arriving at Verrieres, and, if he found that he was in disgrace, was quite capable of going in search of him, to the little house to which he had retired,accompanied by such of the procession as were under his orders. What arebuff that would be!
'I am dishonoured here and at Besancon,' replied the abbe Maslon, 'ifhe appears among my clergy. A Jansenist, great heavens!'
'Whatever you may say, my dear abbe,' M. de Renal assured him, 'Ishall not expose the municipal government of Verrieres to the risk of aninsult from M. de La Mole. You don't know the man, he is sound enoughat court; but here, in the country, he has a satirical, mocking spirit, andlikes nothing so much as to embarrass people. He is capable, simply forhis own amusement, of covering us with ridicule in the eyes of theLiberals.'
It was not until the night between Saturday and Sunday, after threedays of discussion, that the abbe Maslon's pride gave way before theMayor's fear, which had turned to courage. The next thing was to write ahoneyed note to the abbe Chelan, inviting him to be present at the veneration of the relic at Bray-le-Haut, his great age and infirmities permitting.
M. Chelan asked for and obtained a letter of invitation for Julien, whowas to accompany him in the capacity of sub-deacon.
Early on Sunday morning, thousands of peasants, arriving from theneighbouring mountains, flooded the streets of Verrieres. It was a day of brilliant sunshine. At length, about three o'clock, a tremor ran throughthe crowd; they had caught sight of a beacon blazing on a rock twoleagues from Verrieres. This signal announced that the King had justentered the territory of the Department. Immediately the sound of all thebells and the repeated discharge of an old Spanish cannon belonging tothe town proclaimed its joy at this great event. Half the populationclimbed up on the roofs. All the women were on the balconies. TheGuard of Honour began to move. The brilliant uniforms were greatly admired, each of the onlookers recognised a relative or friend. There wasgeneral laughter at the alarm of M. de Moirod, whose cautious hand layready at any moment to clutch hold of his saddle. But one thing madethem forget all the others: the left-hand man in the ninth section was ahandsome lad, very slender, who at first was not identified. Presently acry of indignation from some, the astonished silence of others announceda general sensation. The onlookers recognised in this young man, ridingone of M. Valenod's Norman horses, young Sorel, the carpenter's son.
There was one unanimous outcry against the Mayor, especially amongthe Liberals. What, because this young labourer dressed up as a priestwas tutor to his brats, he had the audacity to appoint him to the Guard ofHonour, to the exclusion of M. This and M. That, wealthy manufacturers! 'Those gentlemen,' said a banker's wife, 'ought really to offer an affront to the little upstart, born in the gutter.'
'He has a wicked temper and he is wearing a sabre,' replied her companion; 'he would be quite treacherous enough to slash them across theface.'
The comments made by the aristocratic element were more dangerous.
The ladies asked themselves whether the Mayor alone was responsiblefor this grave breach of etiquette. On the whole justice was done to hiscontempt for humble birth.
While he was giving rise to so much comment, Julien was the happiestman alive. Bold by nature, he had a better seat on a horse than most ofthe young men of this mountain town. He saw in the eyes of the womenthat they were talking about him.
His epaulettes were more brilliant because they were new. At everymoment his horse threatened to rear; he was in the seventh heaven ofjoy.
His happiness knew no bounds when, as they passed near the oldrampart, the sound of the small cannon made his horse swerve out of theranks. By the greatest accident, he did not fall off; from that moment he felt himself a hero. He was Napoleon's orderly officer and was charginga battery.
There was one person happier than he. First of all she had watchedhim pass from one of the windows of the town hall; then, getting into hercarriage, and rapidly making a wide detour, she was in time to tremblewhen his horse carried him out of the ranks. Finally, her carriage passingout at a gallop through another of the gates of the town, she made herway back to the road along which the King was to pass, and was able tofollow the Guard of Honour at a distance of twenty paces, in a noblecloud of dust. Ten thousand peasants shouted: 'Long live the King' whenthe Mayor had the honour of addressing His Majesty. An hour later,when, having listened to all the speeches, the King was about to enter thetown, the small cannon began to fire again with frenzied haste. But anaccident occurred, not to the gunners who had learned their trade atLeipsic and Montmirail, but to the future Principal Deputy, M. deMoirod. His horse dropped him gently into the one puddle to be foundalong the whole road, which created a scandal, because he had to bepulled out of the way to enable the King's carriage to pass.
His Majesty alighted at the fine new church, which was decked out forthe occasion with all its crimson hangings. The King was to halt for dinner, immediately after which he would take the road again to go andvenerate the famous relic of Saint Clement. No sooner was the King inside the church than Julien went off at a gallop to M. de Renal's. There hediscarded with a sigh his fine sky-blue coat, his sabre, his epaulettes, toresume the little threadbare black coat. He mounted his horse again, andin a few minutes was at Bray-le-Haut, which stands on the summit of animposing hill. 'Enthusiasm is multiplying these peasants,' thought Julien.
'One cannot move at Verrieres, and here there are more than ten thousand of them round this old abbey.' Half ruined by the vandalism of theRevolution, it had been magnificently restored since the Restoration, andthere was already some talk of miracles. Julien joined the abbe Chelan,who scolded him severely, and gave him a cassock and surplice. He vested himself hurriedly in these and followed M. Chelan, who was goingin search of the youthful Bishop of Agde. This was a nephew of M. de LaMole, recently appointed to the See, who had been selected to exhibit therelic to the King. But the Bishop was not to be found.
The clergy were growing impatient. They awaited their leader in thesombre, gothic cloister of the ancient abbey. Four and twenty parishpriests had been collected to represent the original chapter of Bray-le-Haut which prior to 1789 had consisted of four and twenty canons.
Having spent three quarters of an hour in deploring the youthfulness ofthe Bishop, the priests decided that it would be a good thing if theirDean were to go and inform His Lordship that the King was on his way,and that it was time they were in the choir. M. Chelan's great age hadmade him Dean; despite the anger he showed with Julien, he made asign to him to follow him. Julien carried his surplice admirably. By somesecret process of the ecclesiastical toilet-table, he had made his fine curlyhair lie quite flat; but, by an oversight which intensified the anger of M.
Chelan, beneath the long folds of his cassock one could see the spurs ofthe Guard of Honour.
When they reached the Bishop's apartment, the tall lackeys smotheredin gold lace barely condescended to inform the old cure that His Lordship could not be seen. They laughed at him when he tried to explainthat in his capacity as Dean of the Noble Chapter of Bray-le-Haut, it washis privilege to be admitted at all times to the presence of the officiatingBishop.
Julien's proud spirit was offended by the insolence of the lackeys. Heset off on a tour of the dormitories of the old abbey, trying every doorthat he came to. One quite small door yielded to his efforts and he foundhimself in a cell in the midst of His Lordship's body-servants, dressed inblack with chains round their necks. Seeing his air of haste, these gentlemen supposed that the Bishop had sent for him and allowed him to pass.
He went a little way and found himself in an immense gothic chamber,very dark and panelled throughout in black oak; with a single exception,its pointed windows had been walled up with bricks. There was nothingto conceal the coarse surface of this masonry, which formed a sorry contrast to the venerable splendour of the woodwork. Both sides of thisroom, famous among the antiquarians of Burgundy, which the DukeCharles the Bold built about the year 1470 in expiation of some offence,were lined with wooden stalls, richly carved. These displayed, inlaid inwood of different colours, all the mysteries of the Apocalypse.
This melancholy splendour, degraded by the intrusion of the barebricks and white plaster, impressed Julien. He stood there in silence. Atthe other end of the room, near the only window through which anylight came, he saw a portable mirror framed in mahogany. A young man,robed in violet with a lace surplice, but bare-headed, was standing threepaces away from the mirror. This article appeared out of place in such aroom, and had doubtless been brought there from the town. Julienthought that the young man seemed irritated; with his right hand he wasgravely giving benedictions in the direction of the mirror.
'What can this mean?' he wondered. 'Is it a preliminary ceremony thatthis young priest is performing? He is perhaps the Bishop's secretary …he will be rude like the lackeys … but what of that, let us try him.'
He went forward and passed slowly down the length of the room,keeping his eyes fixed on that solitary window and watching the youngman who continued to give benedictions, with a slow motion but in endless profusion, and without pausing for a moment.
As he drew nearer he was better able to see the other's look of annoyance. The costliness of his lace-bordered surplice brought Julien to astandstill some distance away from the magnificent mirror.
'It is my duty to speak,' he reminded himself at length; but the beautyof the room had touched his feelings and he was chilled in anticipationby the harsh words that would be addressed to him.
The young man caught sight of him in the glass, turned round, andsuddenly discarding his look of irritation said to him in the pleasantesttone:
'Well, Sir, is it ready yet?'
Julien remained speechless. As this young man turned towards him,Julien saw the pectoral cross on his breast: it was the Bishop of Agde. 'Soyoung,' thought Julien; 'at the most, only six or eight years older thanmyself!'
And he felt ashamed of his spurs.
'Monseigneur,' he replied timidly. 'I am sent by the Dean of theChapter, M. Chelan.'
'Ah! I have an excellent account of him,' said the bishop in a courteoustone which left Julien more fascinated than ever. 'But I beg your pardon,Sir, I took you for the person who is to bring me back my mitre. It wascarelessly packed in Paris; the silver tissue has been dreadfully frayed atthe top. It will create a shocking effect,' the young Bishop went on with asorrowful air, 'and they are keeping me waiting too.'
'Monseigneur, I shall go and find the mitre, with Your Lordship'spermission.'
Julien's fine eyes had their effect.
'Go, Sir,' the Bishop answered with exquisite courtesy; 'I must have itat once. I am sorry to keep the gentlemen of the Chapter waiting.'
When Julien was halfway down the room, he turned to look at theBishop and saw that he was once more engaged in giving benedictions.
'What can that be?' Julien asked himself; 'no doubt, it is a religious preparation necessary to the ceremony that is to follow.' When he came tothe cell in which the servants were waiting, he saw the mitre in theirhands. These gentlemen, yielding in spite of themselves to Julien's imperious glance, surrendered it to him.
He felt proud to be carrying it: as he crossed the room, he walkedslowly; he held it with respect. He found the Bishop seated before theglass; but, from time to time, his right hand, tired as it was, still gave thebenediction. Julien helped him to put on the mitre. The Bishop shook hishead.
'Ah! It will keep on,' he said to Julien with a satisfied air. 'Will you go alittle way off?'
Whereupon the Bishop walked at a smart pace to the middle of theroom, then returning towards the mirror with a slow step, he resumedhis air of irritation and went on solemnly giving benedictions.
Julien was spellbound with astonishment; he was tempted to guesswhat this meant, but did not dare. The Bishop stopped, and looking athim with an air from which the solemnity rapidly vanished:
'What do you say to my mitre, Sir, does it look right?'
'Quite right, Monseigneur.'
'It is not too far back? That would look rather silly; but it does not do,either, to wear them pulled down over one's eyes like an officer's shako.'
'It seems to me to be quite right.'
'The King of —— is accustomed to venerable clergy who are doubtlessvery solemn. I should not like, especially in view of my age, to appeartoo frivolous.'
And the Bishop once more began to walk about the room scatteringbenedictions.
'It is quite clear,' said Julien, at last venturing to understand, 'he ispractising the benediction.'
A few moments later:
'I am ready,' said the Bishop. 'Go, Sir, and inform the Dean and thegentlemen of the Chapter.'
Presently M. Chelan, followed by the two oldest of the cures, enteredby an immense door, magnificently carved, which Julien had not noticed. But this time he remained in his place in the extreme rear, and could see the Bishop only over the shoulders of the ecclesiastics whocrowded towards this door.
The Bishop crossed the room slowly; when he came to the thresholdthe cures formed in processional order. After a momentary confusion theprocession began to move, intoning a psalm. The Bishop came last,between M. Chelan and another cure of great age. Julien found a placefor himself quite close to His Lordship, as being attached to the abbeChelan. They moved down the long corridors of the abbey of Bray-le-Haut; in spite of the brilliant sunshine, these were dark and damp. Atlength they arrived at the door of the cloister. Julien was speechless withadmiration of so fine a ceremony. His heart was divided between theambition aroused by the Bishop's youthfulness, and the sensibility andexquisite manners of this prelate. His courtesy was of a very differentkind from M. de Renal's, even on his good days. 'The more one rises towards the highest rank of society,' thought Julien, 'the more one findsthese charming manners.'
They entered the church by a side door; suddenly an appalling crashmade its ancient vaults resound; Julien thought that the walls were collapsing. It was again the small cannon; drawn by eight horses at a gallop,it had just arrived; and immediately on its arrival, brought into action bythe gunners of Leipsic, it was firing five rounds a minute, as though thePrussians had been in front of it.
But this stirring sound no longer had any effect upon Julien, hedreamed no more of Napoleon and martial glory. 'So young,' he wasthinking, 'to be Bishop of Agde! But where is Agde? And how much is itworth? Two or three hundred thousand francs, perhaps.'
His Lordship's servants appeared, carrying a magnificent dais; M.
Chelan took one of the poles, but actually it was Julien that bore it. TheBishop took his place beneath it. He had really succeeded in giving himself the air of an old man; our hero's admiration knew no bounds. 'Whatcannot one do if one is clever!' he thought.
The King made his entry. Julien was so fortunate as to see him at closerange. The Bishop addressed him with unction, and did not forget to include a slight touch of confusion, extremely flattering to His Majesty. Weshall not repeat the account of the ceremonies at Bray-le-Haut; for a fortnight they filled the columns of all the newspapers of the Department.
Julien learned, from the Bishop's speech, that the King was descendedfrom Charles the Bold.
Later on it was one of Julien's duties to check the accounts of what thisceremony had cost. M. de La Mole, who had secured a bishopric for hisnephew, had chosen to pay him the compliment of bearing the whole ofthe expense himself. The ceremony at Bray-le-Haut alone cost three thousand eight hundred francs.
After the Bishop's address and the King's reply, His Majesty took hisplace beneath the dais; he then knelt down most devoutly upon a cushion close to the altar. The choir was enclosed with stalls, and these stallswere raised two steps above the pavement. It was on the second of thesesteps that Julien sat at the feet of M. Chelan, not unlike a train-bearer atthe feet of his Cardinal, in the Sistine Chapel, in Rome. There were a TeDeum, clouds of incense, endless volleys of musketry and artillery; thepeasants were frantic with joy and piety. Such a day undoes the work ofa hundred numbers of the Jacobin papers.
Julien was within six paces of the King, who was praying with genuine fervour. He noticed for the first time a small man of intelligent appearance, whose coat was almost bare of embroidery. But he wore a sky-blue riband over this extremely simple coat. He was nearer to the Kingthan many other gentlemen, whose coats were so covered with gold lacethat, to use Julien's expression, one could not see the cloth. He learned aminute later that this was M. de La Mole. He decided that he wore ahaughty, indeed an insolent air.
'This Marquis would not be polite like my dear Bishop,' he thought.
'Ah! The career of a churchman makes one gentle and wise. But the Kinghas come to venerate the relic, and I see no relic. Where can Saint Clement be?'
A little clerk, who was next to him, informed him that the venerablerelic was in the upper part of the building, in a chapelle ardente.
'What is a chapelle ardente?' Julien asked himself.
But he would not ask for an explanation of the words. He followed theproceedings with even closer attention.
On the occasion of a visit from a sovereign prince, etiquette requiresthat the canons shall not accompany the Bishop. But as he started for thechapelle ardente His Lordship of Agde summoned the abbe Chelan; Julien ventured to follow him.
After climbing a long stair, they came to a very small door, the frameof which was sumptuously gilded. This work had a look of having justbeen completed.
Outside the door were gathered on their knees four and twenty girls,belonging to the most distinguished families of Verrieres. Before openingthe door, the Bishop sank on his knees in the midst of these girls, whowere all pretty. While he was praying aloud, it seemed as though theycould not sufficiently admire his fine lace, his charm, his young andpleasant face. This spectacle made our hero lose all that remained of hisreason. At that moment, he would have fought for the Inquisition, and inearnest. Suddenly the door flew open. The little chapel seemed to beablaze with light. One saw upon the altar more than a thousand candlesarranged in eight rows, separated from one another by clusters offlowers. The sweet odour of the purest incense rose in clouds from thegate of the sanctuary. The newly gilded chapel was quite small, but verylofty. Julien noticed that there were on the altar candles more than fifteenfeet long. The girls could not restrain a cry of admiration. No one hadbeen admitted to the tiny ante-chapel save the twenty-four girls, the twopriests and Julien.
Presently the King arrived, followed only by M. de La Mole and hisGreat Chamberlain. The guards themselves remained outside, on theirknees, presenting their arms.
His Majesty flung himself rather than knelt down on the faldstool. Itwas then only that Julien, pressed against the gilded door, caught sight,beneath a girl's bare arm, of the charming statue of Saint Clement. It washidden beneath the altar, in the garb of a young Roman soldier. He hadin his throat a large wound from which the blood seemed to be flowing.
The artist had surpassed himself; the eyes, dying but full of grace, werehalf closed. A budding moustache adorned the charming mouth, whichbeing slightly open had the effect of being still engaged in prayer. At thesight of this statue, the girl nearest to Julien wept hot tears; one of hertears fell upon Julien's hand.
After an interval of prayer in the most profound silence, disturbedonly by the distant sound of the bells of all the villages within a radius often leagues, the Bishop of Agde asked the King's permission to speak. Heconcluded a brief but highly edifying discourse with these words, simplein themselves, but thereby all the better assured of their effect.
'Never forget, young Christian women, that you have seen one of thegreat Kings of the earth upon his knees before the servants of this all-powerful and terrible God. These servants, frail, persecuted, martyredupon earth, as you can see from the still bleeding wound of Saint Clement, are triumphant in heaven. All your lives, I think, young Christians, you will remember this day. You will detest impiety. Always you will remain faithful to this God who is so great, so terrible, but so good.'
At these words, the Bishop rose with authority.
'You promise me?' he said, extending his arm with an air ofinspiration.
'We promise,' said the girls, bursting into tears.
'I receive your promise, in the name of our terrible God!' the Bishopconcluded in a voice of thunder. And the ceremony was at an end.
The King himself was in tears. It was not until long afterwards thatJulien was calm enough to inquire where were the bones of the Saint,sent from Rome to Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy. He was told thatthey were embodied in the charming wax figure.
His Majesty deigned to permit the girls who had accompanied him into the chapel to wear a red riband upon which were embroidered thewords: 'HATRED OF IMPIETY, PERPETUAL ADORATION.'
M. de La Mole ordered ten thousand bottles of wine to be distributedamong the peasants. That evening, at Verrieres, the Liberals found an excuse for illuminating their houses a hundred times more brilliantly thanthe Royalists. Before leaving the town, the King paid a visit to M. deMoirod.