Memoirs of a Physician (46 page)

” Well, .why do you. not begin ? ” asked Louis.

” Sire ‘ said the dauphiness, ” the shepherds and shepherdesses are not yet dressed ; we are waiting for them.”

” They can perform in their evening-dresses,” said the king.

” No, sire,” replied the dauphiness, ” for we wish to try the dresses and costumes by candle-light, to be certain of the effect.”

” You are right, madame,” said the king; “then let us take a stroll.”

And Louis rose to make the circuit of the corridor and the stage. Besides, he was rather uneasy at not seeing
Mme.
Dubarry.

When the king had left the box, Eousseau gazed in a melancholy mood and with an aching heart at the empty hall and his own solitary position ; it was a singular contrast to the reception he had anticipated.

He had pictured to himself that on his entrance all the groups would separate before him ; that the curiosity of the courtiers would be even more importunate and more significative than that of the Parisians; he had feared ques-

MEMOIRS OF A PHYSICIAN. 341

tions and presentations; and, lo ! no one paid any attention to him.

He thought that his long beard was not yet long enough ; that rags would not have been more remarked than his old clothes, and he applauded himself for not having been so ridiculous as to aim at elegance. But at the bottom of his heart he felt humiliated at being thus reduced to the simple post of leader of the orchestra. Suddenly an officer approached and asked him if he was not M. Bousseau.

” Yes, sir,” replied he.

” Her royal highness the dauphiness wishes to speak to you, sir,” said the officer.

Eousseau rose, much agitated.

The dauphiness was waiting for him. She held in her hand the air of Colette.

‘ My happiness is gone. “

The moment she saw Eousseau, she advanced toward him. The philosopher bowed very humbly, saying to himself, ” Then his bow was for the woman, not for the princess ‘

The dauphiness, on the contrary, was as gracious toward the savage philosopher as she would have been to the most finished gentleman in Europe.

She requested his advice about the inflection she ought to get to the third strophe

” Colin leaves me.”

Eousseau forthwith commenced to develop a theory of declamation and melody, which, learned as it was, was interrupted by the noisy arrival of the king and several courtiers.

Louis entered the room in which the dauphiness was tak-ing her lesson from the philosopher. The first impulse of the king’s when he saw this carelessly dressed person was the same that M. de Coigny had manifested, only M. de Coigny knew Eousseau, and the king did not.

He stared, therefore, long and steadily, at our freeman, while still receiving the thanks and compliments of the dauphiness.

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This look, stamped with royal authority this look, not accustomed to be lowered before any one produced a powerful effect upon Rousseau, whose quick eye was timid and unsteady.

The dauphiness waited until the king had finished his scrutiny, then, advancing toward Rousseau, she said :

” Will your majesty allow me to present our author to you ? “

” Your author ? ” said the king, seeming to consult his memory.

During this short dialogue Rousseau was upon burning coals. The king’s eye had successively rested upon and burned up like the sun’s rays under a powerful lens the long beard, the dubious shirt-frill, the dusty garb, and the old wig of the greatest writer in his kingdom.

The dauphiness took pity on the latter.

” Monsieur Jean Jacques Rousseau, sire,” said she, ” the author of the charming opera we are going to execute be-fore your majesty.”

The king raised his head.

” Ah ! ” said he, coldly, ” Monsieur Rousseau, I greet you.”

And he continued to look at him in such a manner as to point out all the imperfections of his dress.

Rousseau asked himself how he ought to salute the king of France, without being a courtier, but also without impoliteness, for he confessed that he was in the prince’s house.

But while he was making these reflections, the king addressed him with that graceful ease of princes who have said everything when they have uttered an agreeable or a disagreeable remark to the person before them. Rousseau, petrified, had at first stood speechless. All the phrases he had prepared for the tyrant were forgotten.

” Monsieur Rousseau,” said the king, still looking at his coat and wig, ” you have composed some charming music, which has caused me to pass some very pleasant moments.”

Then the king, in a voice which was diametrically opposed to all diapason and melody, commenced singing :

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” Had I turned a willing ear, The gallants of the town to hear, Ah ! I had found with ease Other lovers then to please.”

” It is charming ! ” said the king, when he had finished.

Eousseau bowed.

” I do not know if I shall sing it well,” said the dauphiness.

Eousseau turned toward the dauphiness to make some remark in reply; but the king had commenced again, and was singing the romance of Colin:

” From my hut, obscure and cold,

Care is absent never ; Whether sun, or storm, or cold, Suffering, toil, forever.”

His majesty sung frightfully for a musician. Eousseau, half flattered by the monarch’s good memory, half wounded by his detestable execution, looked like a monkey nibbling an onion crying on one side of his face and laughing on the other.

The dauphiness preserved her composure with that im-perturbable self-possession which is only found at court.

The king, without the least embarrassment, continued:

” If thou’lt come to cast thy lot In thy Colin’s humble cot, My sweet shepherdess Colette, I’ll bid adieu to all regret.”

Eousseau felt the color rising to his face.

” Tell me, Monsieur Eousseau,” said the king, ” is it true that you sometimes dress in the costume of an Armenian ? “

Bousseau blushed more deeply than before, and his tongue was so glued to his throat that not for a kingdom could he have pronounced a word at this moment. The king continued to sing, without waiting for a reply:

” Ah ! but little, as times go,

Doth love know What he’d let or what he’d hinder.”

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“You live in the Rue Plastriere, I believe, Monsieur Rousseau ? ” said the king.

Rousseau made a gesture in the affirmative with his head; but that was the ultima thule of his strength. Never had he called up so much to his support.

The king hummed :

” She is a child, She is a child.”

” It is i?aid that you are on bad terms with Voltaire, Monsieur Rousseau ? “

At this blow Rousseau lost the little presence of mind he had remaining, and was totally put out of countenance. The king did not seem to have much pity for him, and, continuing his ferocious melomania, he moved off, singing:

” Come, dance with me beneath the elms ; Young maidens, come be merry.”

with orchestral accompaniments which would have killed Apollo, as the latter killed Marsyas.

Rousseau remained alone in the center of the room. The dauphiness had quitted it to finish her toilet.

Rousseau, trembling and confused, regained the corridor; but on his way he stumbled against a couple dazzling with diamonds, flowers, and lace, who filled up the entire width of the corridor, although the young man squeezed his lovely companion tenderly to his side.

The young woman, with her fluttering laces, her tower-ing headdress, her fan, and her perfumes, was radiant as a star. It was she against whom Roussean brushed in passing.

The young man, slender, elegant, and charming, with his blue ribbon rustling against his English shirt-frill, every now and then burst into a laugh of most engaging frankness, and then suddenly interrupted it with little confidential whispers which made the lady laugh in her turn, and showed that they were on excellent terms.

Rousseau recognized the Countess Dubarry in this beautiful lady, this seducing creature; and the moment he per-

MEMOIRS OF A PHYSICIAN. 345

ceived her, true to his habit of absorbing his whole thoughts on a single object, he no longer saw her companion.

The young man with the blue ribbon was no other than the Count d’Artois, who was merrily toying with his grandfather’s favorite.

When
Mme.
Dubarry perceived Rousseau’s dark figure, she exclaimed:

” Ah, good heavens ! “

” What ! ” said the Count d’Artois, also looking at the philosopher; and already he had stretched out his hand to make way for his companion.

” Monsieur Rousseau ! ” exclaimed
Mme.
Dubarry.

” Rousseau of Geneva ? ” said the Count d’Artois, in the tone of a schoolboy in the holidays.

” Yes, my lord,” replied the countess.

” Ah, good day, Monsieur Rousseau,” said the young fop, seeing Rousseau make a despairing effort to force a passage ; ” good day ; we are going to hear your music.”

” My lord ” stammered Rousseau, seeing the blue

ribbon.

” Ah ! most charming music ! ” exclaimed the countess ; ” and completely in harmony with the heart and mind of the author.”

Rousseau raised his head, and his eyes met the burning gaze of the countess.

” Madame ! ” said he, ill-humoredly.

” I will play Colin, madame,” cried the Count d’Artois, ” and I entreat that you, Madame la Comtesse, will play Colette.”

” With all my heart, my lord ; but I would never dare I, who am not an artist to profane the music of a master.”

Rousseau would have given his life to look again at her ; but the voice, the tone, the flattery, the beauty, had each planted a baited hook in his heart. He tried to escape.

” Monsieur Rousseau,” said the prince, blocking up the passage, ” I wish you would teach me the part of Colin.”

” I dare not ask Monsieur Rousseau to give me his ad-vice respecting Colette,” said the countess, feigning

346 MEMOIRS OF A PHYSICIAN.

timidity, and thus completing the overthrow of the philosopher.”

But yet his eyes inquired why.

” Monsieur Rousseau hates me,” said she to the prince, with her enchanting voice.

” You are jesting,” exclaimed the Count d’Artois. ” Who could hate you, madame ? “

” You see it plainly,” replied she.

” Monsieur Rousseau is too great a man and has written too many noble works to fly from such a charming woman,” said the Count d’Artois.

Rousseau heaved a sigh as if he were ready to give up the ghost, and made his escape through a narrow loop-hole which the Count d’Artois had imprudently left between himself and the wall. But Rousseau was not in luck this evening. He had scarcely proceeded four steps when he met another group composed of two men, one old, the other young. The young one wore the blue ribbon; the other, who might be about fifty years of age, was dressed in red and looked austere and pale. These two men overheard the merry laugh of the Count d’Artois, who exclaimed loudly:

” Ah ! Monsieur Rousseau, Monsieur Rousseau ! I shall say that the countess put you to flight; and, in truth, no one would believe it.”

” Rousseau ! ” murmured the two men.

“Stop him, brother!” said the prince, still laughing; ” stop him. Monsieur de Vauguyon ‘ “

Rousseau now comprehended on what rock his evil star had shipwrecked him. The Count de Provence and the governor of the royal youths were before him.

The Count de Provence also barred the way.

” Good day, sir,” said he, with his dry, pedantic voice.

Rousseau, almost at his wits’ end, bowed, muttering to himself :

” I shall never get away ! “

” Ah ! I am delighted to have met you,” said the prince, with the air of a schoolmaster who finds a pupil in fault.

” More absurd compliments ! ” thought Rousseau. ” How insipid these great people are ! “

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” I have read your translation of ‘ Tacitus sir.”

” Ah ! true,” thought Rousseau ; ” this one is a pedant, a scholar.”

“Do you know that it is very difficult to translate ‘ Tacitus ‘ ? “

” My lord, I said so in a short preface.”

” Yes, I know, I know ; you said in it that you had only a slight knowledge of Latin.”

” It is true, my lord.”

” Then, Monsieur Rousseau, why translate ‘ Tacitus ‘ ? “

” My lord, it improves one’s style.”

” Ah ! Monsieur Rousseau, it was wrong to translate imperatorid brevitate by ‘ a grave and concise discourse.’ n

Rousseau, uneasy, consulted his memory.

” Yes,” said the young prince, with the confidence of an old savant who discovers a fault in Saumise; “yes, you translated it so. It is in the paragraph where Tacitus relates that Pison harangued his soldiers ‘

“Well, my lord?”

” Well, Monsieur Rousseau, imperatoria brevitate means, ‘ with the conciseness of a general,’ or of a man accustomed to command. With the brevity of command; that is the expression, is it not, Monsieur de la Vauguyon ? “

” Yes, my lord,” replied the governor.

Rousseau made no reply. The prince added :

” That is an evident mistake, Monsieur Rousseau. Oh ! I will find you another.”

Rousseau turned pale.

” Stay, Monsieur Rousseau, there is one in the paragraph relating to Cecina. It commences thus: At in su-per lore Ger mania. You know he is describing Cecina, and Tacitus says, Cito sermone.”

” I remember it perfectly, my lord.”

” You translated that by ‘ speaking well “

” Yes, my lord, and I thought “

” Cito sermone means ‘ speaking quickly that is to say, easily.”

” I said, ‘ speaking well “

” Then it should have been decoro, or ornato, or ele*

348 MEMOIRS OF A PHYSICIAN.

ganti sermone; cito is a picturesque epithet, Monsieur Rousseau. Just as in portraying the change in Otho’s conduct, Tacitus says: Delatd voluptate, dissimulald luxurid, cuncta que ad imperii decorem composita.”