I

Dedication

To Henri de Balzac, his brother Honore.

The Comte de Fontaine, head of one of the oldest families in Poitou,

had served the Bourbon cause with intelligence and bravery during the

war in La Vendee against the Republic. After having escaped all the

dangers which threatened the royalist leaders during this stormy

period of modern history, he was wont to say in jest, "I am one of the

men who gave themselves to be killed on the steps of the throne." And

the pleasantry had some truth in it, as spoken by a man left for dead

at the bloody battle of Les Quatre Chemins. Though ruined by

confiscation, the staunch Vendeen steadily refused the lucrative posts

offered to him by the Emperor Napoleon. Immovable in his aristocratic

faith, he had blindly obeyed its precepts when he thought it fitting

to choose a companion for life. In spite of the blandishments of a

rich but revolutionary parvenu, who valued the alliance at a high

figure, he married Mademoiselle de Kergarouet, without a fortune, but

belonging to one of the oldest families in Brittany.

When the second revolution burst on Monsieur de Fontaine he was

encumbered with a large family. Though it was no part of the noble

gentlemen's views to solicit favors, he yielded to his wife's wish,

left his country estate, of which the income barely sufficed to

maintain his children, and came to Paris. Saddened by seeing the

greediness of his former comrades in the rush for places and dignities

under the new Constitution, he was about to return to his property

when he received a ministerial despatch, in which a well-known magnate

announced to him his nomination as marechal de camp, or brigadier-

general, under a rule which allowed the officers of the Catholic

armies to count the twenty submerged years of Louis XVIII.'s reign as

years of service. Some days later he further received, without any

solicitation, ex officio, the crosses of the Legion of Honor and of

Saint-Louis.

Shaken in his determination by these successive favors, due, as he

supposed, to the monarch's remembrance, he was no longer satisfied

with taking his family, as he had piously done every Sunday, to cry

"Vive le Roi" in the hall of the Tuileries when the royal family

passed through on their way to chapel; he craved the favor of a

private audience. The audience, at once granted, was in no sense

private. The royal drawing-room was full of old adherents, whose

powdered heads, seen from above, suggested a carpet of snow. There the

Count met some old friends, who received him somewhat coldly; but the

princes he thought ADORABLE, an enthusiastic expression which escaped

him when the most gracious of his masters, to whom the Count had

supposed himself to be known only by name, came to shake hands with

him, and spoke of him as the most thorough Vendeen of them all.

Notwithstanding this ovation, none of these august persons thought of

inquiring as to the sum of his losses, or of the money he had poured

so generously into the chests of the Catholic regiments. He

discovered, a little late, that he had made war at his own cost.

Towards the end of the evening he thought he might venture on a witty

allusion to the state of his affairs, similar, as it was, to that of

many other gentlemen. His Majesty laughed heartily enough; any speech

that bore the hall-mark of wit was certain to please him; but he

nevertheless replied with one of those royal pleasantries whose

sweetness is more formidable than the anger of a rebuke. One of the

King's most intimate advisers took an opportunity of going up to the

fortune-seeking Vendeen, and made him understand by a keen and polite

hint that the time had not yet come for settling accounts with the

sovereign; that there were bills of much longer standing than his on

the books, and there, no doubt, they would remain, as part of the

history of the Revolution. The Count prudently withdrew from the

venerable group, which formed a respectful semi-circle before the

august family; then, having extricated his sword, not without some

difficulty, from among the lean legs which had got mixed up with it,

he crossed the courtyard of the Tuileries and got into the hackney cab

he had left on the quay. With the restive spirit, which is peculiar to

the nobility of the old school, in whom still survives the memory of

the League and the day of the Barricades (in 1588), he bewailed

himself in his cab, loudly enough to compromise him, over the change

that had come over the Court. "Formerly," he said to himself, "every

one could speak freely to the King of his own little affairs; the

nobles could ask him a favor, or for money, when it suited them, and

nowadays one cannot recover the money advanced for his service without

raising a scandal! By Heaven! the cross of Saint-Louis and the rank of

brigadier-general will not make good the three hundred thousand livres

I have spent, out and out, on the royal cause. I must speak to the

King, face to face, in his own room."

This scene cooled Monsieur de Fontaine's ardor all the more

effectually because his requests for an interview were never answered.

And, indeed, he saw the upstarts of the Empire obtaining some of the

offices reserved, under the old monarchy, for the highest families.

"All is lost!" he exclaimed one morning. "The King has certainly never

been other than a revolutionary. But for Monsieur, who never

derogates, and is some comfort to his faithful adherents, I do not

know what hands the crown of France might not fall into if things are

to go on like this. Their cursed constitutional system is the worst

possible government, and can never suit France. Louis XVIII. and

Monsieur Beugnot spoiled everything at Saint Ouen."

The Count, in despair, was preparing to retire to his estate,

abandoning, with dignity, all claims to repayment. At this moment the

events of the 20th March (1815) gave warning of a fresh storm,

threatening to overwhelm the legitimate monarch and his defenders.

Monsieur de Fontaine, like one of those generous souls who do not

dismiss a servant in a torrent of rain; borrowed on his lands to

follow the routed monarchy, without knowing whether this complicity in

emigration would prove more propitious to him than his past devotion.

But when he perceived that the companions of the King's exile were in

higher favor than the brave men who had protested, sword in hand,

against the establishment of the republic, he may perhaps have hoped

to derive greater profit from this journey into a foreign land than

from active and dangerous service in the heart of his own country. Nor

was his courtier-like calculation one of these rash speculations which

promise splendid results on paper, and are ruinous in effect. He was--

to quote the wittiest and most successful of our diplomates--one of

the faithful five hundred who shared the exile of the Court at Ghent,

and one of the fifty thousand who returned with it. During the short

banishment of royalty, Monsieur de Fontaine was so happy as to be

employed by Louis XVIII., and found more than one opportunity of

giving him proofs of great political honesty and sincere attachment.

One evening, when the King had nothing better to do, he recalled

Monsieur de Fontaine's witticism at the Tuileries. The old Vendeen did

not let such a happy chance slip; he told his history with so much

vivacity that a king, who never forgot anything, might remember it at

a convenient season. The royal amateur of literature also observed the

elegant style given to some notes which the discreet gentleman had

been invited to recast. This little success stamped Monsieur de

Fontaine on the King's memory as one of the loyal servants of the

Crown.

At the second restoration the Count was one of those special envoys

who were sent throughout the departments charged with absolute

jurisdiction over the leaders of revolt; but he used his terrible

powers with moderation. As soon as the temporary commission was ended,

the High Provost found a seat in the Privy Council, became a deputy,

spoke little, listened much, and changed his opinions very

considerably. Certain circumstances, unknown to historians, brought

him into such intimate relations with the Sovereign, that one day, as

he came in, the shrewd monarch addressed him thus: "My friend

Fontaine, I shall take care never to appoint you to be director-

general, or minister. Neither you nor I, as employes, could keep our

place on account of our opinions. Representative government has this

advantage; it saves Us the trouble We used to have, of dismissing Our

Secretaries of State. Our Council is a perfect inn-parlor, whither

public opinion sometimes sends strange travelers; however, We can

always find a place for Our faithful adherents."

This ironical speech was introductory to a rescript giving Monsieur de

Fontaine an appointment as administrator in the office of Crown lands.

As a consequence of the intelligent attention with which he listened

to his royal Friend's sarcasms, his name always rose to His Majesty's

lips when a commission was to be appointed of which the members were

to receive a handsome salary. He had the good sense to hold his tongue

about the favor with which he was honored, and knew how to entertain

the monarch in those familiar chats in which Louis XVIII. delighted as

much as in a well-written note, by his brilliant manner of repeating

political anecdotes, and the political or parliamentary tittle-tattle

--if the expression may pass--which at that time was rife. It is well

known that he was immensely amused by every detail of his

Gouvernementabilite--a word adopted by his facetious Majesty.

Thanks to the Comte de Fontaine's good sense, wit, and tact, every

member of his numerous family, however young, ended, as he jestingly

told his Sovereign, in attaching himself like a silkworm to the leaves

of the Pay-List. Thus, by the King's intervention, his eldest son

found a high and fixed position as a lawyer. The second, before the

restoration a mere captain, was appointed to the command of a legion

on the return from Ghent; then, thanks to the confusion of 1815, when

the regulations were evaded, he passed into the bodyguard, returned to

a line regiment, and found himself after the affair of the Trocadero a

lieutenant-general with a commission in the Guards. The youngest,

appointed sous-prefet, ere long became a legal official and director

of a municipal board of the city of Paris, where he was safe from

changes in Legislature. These bounties, bestowed without parade, and

as secret as the favor enjoyed by the Count, fell unperceived. Though

the father and his three sons each had sinecures enough to enjoy an

income in salaries almost equal to that of a chief of department,

their political good fortune excited no envy. In those early days of

the constitutional system, few persons had very precise ideas of the

peaceful domain of the civil service, where astute favorites managed

to find an equivalent for the demolished abbeys. Monsieur le Comte de

Fontaine, who till lately boasted that he had not read the Charter,

and displayed such indignation at the greed of courtiers, had, before

long, proved to his august master that he understood, as well as the

King himself, the spirit and resources of the representative system.

At the same time, notwithstanding the established careers open to his

three sons, and the pecuniary advantages derived from four official

appointments, Monsieur de Fontaine was the head of too large a family

to be able to re-establish his fortune easily and rapidly.

His three sons were rich in prospects, in favor, and in talent; but he

had three daughters, and was afraid of wearying the monarch's

benevolence. It occurred to him to mention only one by one, these

virgins eager to light their torches. The King had too much good taste

to leave his work incomplete. The marriage of the eldest with a

Receiver-General, Planat de Baudry, was arranged by one of those royal

speeches which cost nothing and are worth millions. One evening, when

the Sovereign was out of spirits, he smiled on hearing of the

existence of another Demoiselle de Fontaine, for whom he found a

husband in the person of a young magistrate, of inferior birth, no

doubt, but wealthy, and whom he created Baron. When, the year after,

the Vendeen spoke of Mademoiselle Emilie de Fontaine, the King replied

in his thin sharp tones, "Amicus Plato sed magis amica Natio." Then, a

few days later, he treated his "friend Fontaine" to a quatrain,

harmless enough, which he styled an epigram, in which he made fun of

these three daughters so skilfully introduced, under the form of a

trinity. Nay, if report is to be believed, the monarch had found the

point of the jest in the Unity of the three Divine Persons.

"If your Majesty would only condescend to turn the epigram into an

epithalamium?" said the Count, trying to turn the sally to good

account.

"Though I see the rhyme of it, I fail to see the reason," retorted the

King, who did not relish any pleasantry, however mild, on the subject

of his poetry.

From that day his intercourse with Monsieur de Fontaine showed less

amenity. Kings enjoy contradicting more than people think. Like most

youngest children, Emilie de Fontaine was a Benjamin spoilt by almost

everybody. The King's coolness, therefore, caused the Count all the

more regret, because no marriage was ever so difficult to arrange as

that of this darling daughter. To understand all the obstacles we must

make our way into the fine residence where the official was housed at

the expense of the nation. Emilie had spent her childhood on the

family estate, enjoying the abundance which suffices for the joys of

early youth; her lightest wishes had been law to her sisters, her

brothers, her mother, and even her father. All her relations doted on

her. Having come to years of discretion just when her family was

loaded with the favors of fortune, the enchantment of life continued.

The luxury of Paris seemed to her just as natural as a wealth of

flowers or fruit, or as the rural plenty which had been the joy of her

first years. Just as in her childhood she had never been thwarted in

the satisfaction of her playful desires, so now, at fourteen, she was

still obeyed when she rushed into the whirl of fashion.