Merivel A Man of His Time (14 page)

Please make ready the House for my return a week or so hence
.

I remain
,

Yr Affectionate Master and Friend
,

Sir R. Merivel

I sat at my window a long time, with a candle burning low.

I was trying to decide whether I should write a second letter, this one to Louise, before leaving Paris. Even if de Flamanville had returned to Versailles as he had planned, I reflected that I could not be certain that any letter of mine would not fall into Enemy Hands – those of Mademoiselle Corinne – before it could be given to the admirable woman for whom it was intended.

I decided, at last, to write a simple brief Note, which ran as follows:

Chère Madame
,

It grieves me that I was forced to leave your House without saying goodbye
.

I return to England shortly
.

Please favour me with your Presence in the Jardin du Roi, near the place where the Bear is caged, on Tuesday afternoon at two o’clock
.

I remain
,

Your Humble Servant
,

Merivel

I sealed my letters and took them downstairs, requesting that they be put in the Post Bag forthwith. And when I had done this I felt a kind of
soulagement
, a lessening of anxiety and fret, for the simple reason that I made some Plan.

Now it is Tuesday.

Yesterday I collected my Coats from Monsieur Durand and I am pleased with their altered appearance. The feel of the ribbons fluttering and cascading down my arms is oddly enjoyable, as though they might be wings, ready to lift me off into the white winter sky. They seem to lend me a lightness of tread.

When I go through the gates of the
Jardin du Roi
, telling the Guard that I am a ‘close Acquaintance’ of Madame de Flamanville, I see Respect upon his features as he looks me up and down. Yet I know this Respect is not for me, but for my clothes, and I marvel afresh at the magic that can be worked by fashion and fashion alone.

The day is mournful, with the last of the Plantain leaves flying off and drifting to rest on the gravel pathways, and dark clouds promising rain. But the thought that in a few moments I may see Louise creates in my heart a little nugget of warmth, and I place my gloved hands there, where I know my heart to be, and the cold in my fingers becomes less.

I approach the Bear. It has ceased to howl and is sitting in a puddle of its own excrement, staring out at the world.

I do not know why the plight of animals moves me so greatly. Perhaps it is that I have never overcome my own Animal Nature and if animals could talk to me, and laugh at my jokes, why then my closest friends would be not only dogs, but also cattle and sheep.

I draw near to the cage. There is a stench from it, both of excrement and of Animal Terror. I can do little but stand and contemplate the creature. It does not move, but its rheumy eyes regard me with a kind of passive tenderness, as though it knew my own helplessness in regard to it. Then, suddenly, it lumbers to its four great feet and comes towards me, and sticks its snout through the bars of the cage.

Drool seeps from its mouth. I long to give it water or food, but have neither.

I go a little nearer and hold out my hand, and the Bear utters a noise, which is not precisely a howl, but only the low sound of yearning.

A voice at my back says: ‘The Bear has not gone to Versailles, I see. I fear it is not sleek enough for the King.’

I turn and see Louise, wearing a cloak trimmed with white fur, and I walk away from the Bear and go to her and bow, and lift her hand and place on it an ardent kiss.

‘Louise,’ I say, ‘I am so sorry for the hasty nature of my departure. I wanted to come to you before I left. There were a hundred things I wanted to say to you, but your husband’s Manservant stood over me, even while I packed my things, and then conducted me straight to the open door and the carriage …’

‘I know,’ says Louise. ‘And I could not come to
you
, for fear of what Jacques-Adolphe would do. And so we were parted.’

We stand and gaze at each other, both of us aware that this Reunion will be brief and is only, in truth, the prelude to a new Departure. My longing to take Louise in my arms is so great that I look about me to ascertain whether we are alone in this part of the
Jardin
and, expecting no one to be near us, I am extremely discomforted to see two Guards approaching at a fast pace, bearing muskets.

‘Louise,’ I say. ‘I do believe I am about to be shot.’

She turns and sees the Soldiers. Her hand flies to her mouth and she positions herself bravely in front of me. ‘He would not dare!’ she whispers.

The men come on. I expect them at the next instant to stop and raise their weapons, as though part of a Firing Party. But instead they
click
their heels and offer us a little bow, at which sign the heavy beating of my heart is stilled somewhat. Louise reaches out and clutches my arm.

‘Madame, Monsieur,’ says one of the Guards, ‘you may wish to withdraw a little …’

I stare at them and now I realise what it is they are about to do: they are going to kill the Bear.

I ask myself whether I should not be glad at this, the creature’s existence being such a wretched thing. But something in me is repelled by it. My knowledge of animal anatomy is sufficient to tell me that this Bear, for all its pitiful state, is still young. And the notion that its Whole Life will have consisted in being caged and starved and tormented with thirst offends me deeply.

‘I was told,’ I say firmly, ‘that the Bear was to be transported to Versailles.’

‘Yes,’ replies one of the Soldiers, ‘but His Majesty has changed his mind. He has wearied of large animals.’

‘So you are going to shoot the Bear?’

‘Yes, Monsieur. If you and Madame would care to walk away …’

‘No!’ I say suddenly. ‘Please do not kill it!’

‘I’m sorry, Monsieur. Those are our orders.’

In an instant I have done the most surprising thing. I have whipped off my glove and held out my hand, on which I am wearing the Sapphire ring given to me by King Charles – the very one I almost lost to the Highwayman on the Dover Road.

‘See this Jewel?’ I say to the Guards. ‘It was given to me by the King of England. It is worth ten
pistoles
– or more. And it will be yours if you put down your muskets and do as I instruct.’

Louise looks at me in amazement, as well she might. All I can whisper to her is: ‘It offends me, Louise. I cannot bear the
offence
!’

The Soldiers confer with each other. They believe, I am sure, that I am quite mad, yet are perhaps saying to themselves that very few madmen can afford the kind of shoulder-ribbons with which my Coat is adorned, so fashion comes, yet again, into the Equation.

‘Listen to me,’ say I. ‘I leave for England tomorrow or the next day. I will pay you to commission a cart to take the Bear, in its cage,
to
Dieppe and see it safely delivered to the Port there. From Dieppe I will ship it to England. King Louis need know nothing of this. But you, you will live well for some time on the value of this ring, which any good Parisian jeweller will be ecstatic to buy from you.’

The Soldiers gape at me. I take off the dazzling Sapphire and hold it before their eyes. They glance at it for a moment, then shake their heads. ‘How do we know,’ says one, ‘that it is a real Jewel and not a Counterfeit?’

‘Well, surely, you have only to
look
! This ring came from the Royal Coffers at Whitehall: His Majesty’s atonement for beating me at Tennis so very frequently.’

‘Tennis?
Tennis?
What is this all about, Monsieur?’ What in the world will you do with a Bear?’

‘I will care for it!’ I burst out. ‘I have a very beautiful park surrounding my house in England. I will make a compound where it can live out its days in tranquillity. I will study its nature and learn something from it. It will give me far more knowledge and understanding than a Sapphire ring could ever yield.’

Louise’s hands flutter about my arm, as if to restrain me from my wild idea, but I am angry now and not to be restrained. Sensing that I am serious, the Guards withdraw a little to confer. Then they turn to me and announce: ‘We will do it for the ten
pistoles
. You must sell the ring and get the money. Then we will do it.’

I sigh. I did not want to spend the rest of my time in Paris haggling with Jewellers, but I see that there is probably no choice. I reason, also, on the instant that if I am lucky enough to get more than ten
pistoles
for the jewel, then all my pecuniary anxiety will fade away.

I take out a small purse from my pocket and give it to the Guards. ‘Very well,’ I say. ‘I will sell the Jewel. You must buy meat. Let the Animal eat and drink this afternoon. Let the cage be cleaned. On Thursday, by midday, I will expect to find everything shipshape on the Quayside at Dieppe, at which place and time the
pistoles
will be given to you.’

The Guards examine the Purse. They confer once more in whispers with each other and I fancy I can hear them plotting to purchase meat for themselves and to give nothing to the Bear.

‘If this animal is not fed,’ I say, ‘It will attempt to eat
you
. Do you wish to risk that?’

‘Yes, it certainly will,’ affirms Louise bravely. ‘You can note from its saliva how famished it is. Its inclination will be to bite off your hands.’

Upon this cue the Bear opens it jaws and lets forth a mighty Roar. The Guards retreat further from it and regard it anxiously. They grip their muskets more tightly.

‘Well?’ I say. ‘What is to be? Ten
pistoles
or nothing at all?’

They confer yet again. Both are looking somewhat pale.

‘We will do it,’ they say, almost in unison.

‘Good,’ I say. ‘You have made the right decision.’

I go to them, hold out my hand and they shake it each in turn. They are still convinced that this beribboned Englishman has taken leave of his senses, which, looked at in one way, is true, but it would not be for the first time, nor for the last.

On the eastern side of the
Jardin du Roi
there is an Evergreen Maze, whose bosky paths rise to a wooded pinnacle, from which the view over the city is most serene and fine.

Louise and I climb up, hand in hand, to this most excellent place, and when we have admired Paris enough, turn to each other and embrace. That I may never hold this woman in my arms again chokes my heart so much that tears come to my eyes and spill down my cheeks.

Louise licks them tenderly away. We kiss again and I sense in her no diminution of the passion we felt in her bed. So we go deeper into the little wood, where we are hidden from the path, and I take off my new Coat and lay it down on the forest floor, and there, in the cold winter’s afternoon, we are lovers once more.

Lying together afterwards, very still and with no inclination to move, despite the chill in the air and the diminution of the day’s light, Louise says to me: ‘I have decided, Merivel. In the summer I am going to Switzerland. I shall stay for a long time. Perhaps you could come to me there? I know my Father would be glad to see you. He has never approved of my Marriage and he knows how unhappy I am. I will make sure that he welcomes you into his house.’

I stroke Louise’s hair. Into my mind comes a wonderful imagining of mountains and wild flowers and skies of cobalt, and some lofty castle sitting among firs and pines. I tell Louise to send word to me as soon as she is there, and I will once again entrust myself to the roads and the sea.

Part Two

The Great Captivity

11

I SAW THE
Bear, in its cage, safely stowed on the deck of the boat by French sailors, who asked me what manner of animal this was.

‘It is a Bear,’ I said. ‘It has come from the Forests of Germany.’

‘Bear meat is a delicacy in England, is it, Monsieur?’

‘No. I’m not going to eat it.’

‘What are you going to do with it?’

I did not really know what to answer to this. I had been so intent upon saving the animal that my mind had not proceeded very far towards any Destiny for the creature. I saw only a safe and commodious compound, like a Stockade, in the park at Bidnold, and here the Bear would be fed and cared for, and Margaret and I would come there and visit it, as a wondrous new pastime, and when I had guests at Bidnold (including the King) they would also be amused to spend time in contemplation of a creature they had never before beheld.

However, what I heard myself say in reply to the French sailors was: ‘I have got the idea of starting a Menagerie, like that to be seen at Versailles. I am hoping, in due time, to hold captive a Giraffe.’

As the boat drew away into the Channel, on a morning of freezing and impenetrable mist, with only the cry of gulls to remind us that our Vessel was not the last and only thing on the surface of the World, I did not go below to my cabin, but positioned myself upon some wicker Chicken Crates and sat very still, regarding my captive.

This stillness was now and again disturbed by the Chickens rudely attempting to peck at my bottom through the gaps in the wicker-weave, but I found some sacking and put this over the Crate, and
after
that the Chickens showed me a little more courtesy, fancying, perhaps, that night had suddenly descended.

In better spirits than when Louise and I had seen it in the
Jardin du Roi
, the Bear occupied itself for some time with a piece of meat, then turned in a circle and shat copiously, drank water from a tin bucket and after that settled down to regard me, with a settled Quiet, in much the same way as I was regarding it.

Some words of my beloved Montaigne, written, I think, about a dog or a cat, came to my mind. ‘Of Animals,’ he said, ‘silence itself can beg requests’, and I asked myself what request the Bear might be begging of me, or I of it.

For I could clearly perceive that both of us were in Transition from one time to another and that very many Confusions tormented us. The Bear had no understanding of the element – the sea – on which it found itself, nor any concept of Future Time. As for me, it was not difficult to imagine myself as the animal in the cage, constrained as to what success I could ever achieve, after the lamentable failure of my effort at Versailles, and constrained as to whom I could love, without finding myself thrust through with a sword.