Taking the Bastile (37 page)

And the queen smiled ironically.

‘Precisely so, madam*.’ said Gilbert; ‘you may smile, and, little by little, subdue your nervousness by irony. It is one of the most beautiful prerogatives of the intelligent will to be able thus to control itself. Subdue it, madame, subdue it; but, however, without making a too violent effort,’

This prescription of the physician was given with so much suavity and such natural good humour, that the queen, while feeling the bitter irony contained in his words, could not take offence at what Gilbert had said to her. She merely returned to the charge, recommencing her attacks where she had discontinued them.

‘This incident of which I spoke,’ continued she, ‘is the following.’

Gilbert bowed, as a sign that he wa* listening.

The queen made an effort, and fixed her gaze upon him.

‘I was the dauphiness at that time, and I inhabited Trianon. There was in the gardens a little dark-looking, dirty boy, covered with mud, a crabbed boy, a sort of sour Jean Jacques, who weeded, dug, and picked off the caterpillars with his little crooked fingers. His name was Gilbert*

‘It was myself, madame*’ said Gilbert phlegmatically.

‘Yon 1’ said Marie Antoinette, with an expression of hatred. ‘I wat then right 1 but you are not, then, a learned man?’

‘I think that, as your majesty’s memory is so good.

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you must also remember dates,’ rejoined Gilbert. ‘It waa in 1772, if I am not mistaken, that the little gardener’s boy, of whom your majesty speaks, weeded the flower-beds of Trianon to earn his bread. We are now in 1789. It ia therefore seventeen years, madame, since the events to which you allude took place. It is more time than is necessary to metamorphose a savage into a learned man; the soul and the mind operate quickly in certain positions, like plants and flowers, which grow rapidly in hothouses. Revolutions, madame, are the hotbeds of the mind. Your majesty looks at me, and, notwithstanding the perspicacity of your scrutiny, you do not perceive that the ooy of sixteen has become a man of thirty-three; you are therefore wrong to wonder that the ignorant, the ingenuous little Gilbert, should, after having witnessed these revolutions, have become a learned man and a philosopher.’

‘ Ignorant 1 be it so; but ingenuous ingenuous, did you say?’ furiously cried the queen. ‘I think you called that little Gilbert ingenuous.’

‘If I am mistaken, madame, or if I praised this little boy for a quality which he did not possess, I do not know how your majesty can have ascertained more correctly than myself that ne had the opposite defect.’

‘Oh, that is quite another matter 1’ said the queen gloomily; ‘perhaps we shall speak of that some other time; but, in the meantime, let me speak of the learned man, of the man brought to perfection, of the perfect man I see before me.’

Gilbert did not take up the word period. He understood but too well that it was a new insult.

‘Let us return to our subject, madame,’ replied Gilbert. ‘Tell me for what purpose did your majesty order me to come to her apartment?’

‘You propose to become the king’s physician,’ said she. ‘Now, you must understand, sir, that I attach too much importance to the health of my husband to trust it ia the hands of a man whom I do not know perfectly.’

‘I offered myself to the king, madame, said Gilbert, ‘and I was accepted without your majesty having any just cause to conceive the least suspicion as to my capacity or want of zeal. I am. above all, a political physician, madame, recommended by Monsieur Necker. As for the rest, if the king is ever in want of my science, I shall prov*

44 TAKING THE BASTILLE

myself a good physical doctor, so far as human science can be of use to the Creator’s works. But what I shall be to the king, more particularly, besides being a good adviser, and a good physician, ia a good friend.’

‘A good friend I’ exclaimed the queen, with a fresh outburst of contempt. ‘You, sir, a friend of the king I’

‘Certainly,’ replied Gilbert auietly; ‘why not, madame ? ‘

‘Oh, yes ! all in virtue of your secret power, by the assistance of your occult science,’ murmured she; ‘who can tell? We have already seen the Jacqueses and the Maillotins; perhaps we shall go back to the dark ages 1 You have resuscitated philtres and charms; you will soon govern France by magic.’

‘I have no such pretensions, madame.’

‘And why have you not, sir? How many monsters more cruel than those of the gardens of Armida would you not put to sleep on the threshold of our hell ? ‘

When she had pronounced the words, ‘wpuld you not put to sleep,’ the queen cast a scrutinising look on the doctor.

This time Gilbert blushed, in spite of himself. It was a source of indescribable joy to Marie Antoinette; she felt that, this time, the blow she had struck had inflicted a real wound.

‘For you have the power of causing sleep; you, who have studied everything and everywhere, you doubtless have studied magnetic science with the magnetisers of our century, who make sleep a treacherous instrument, and who read their secrets in the sleep of others.’

‘In fact, madame, I have often, and for a long time, studied under the learned Cagliostro.’

‘Yes; he who practised and made his followers practise that moral theft of which I was just speaking; the same who, by the aid of that magic sleep which I call infamous, fobbed some of their souls, and others of their bodies I’

Gilbert again understood her meaning, but this time he turned pale, instead of reddening. The queen trembled with joy, to the very depths of her heart. But the profoundest emotions were never yisibl* for any length of time on the countenance of Gilbert. Approaching the queen, therefore, who, quite joyful on account of her victory, was imprudently looking at him ;

‘Madame,’ said he, ‘your majesty would be wrong to deny the learned men of whom you have been speaking the

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most beautiful appendage to their science, which is the power of throwing, not victims, but subjects, into a magnetic sleep; you would be wrong, in particular, to contest the right they have to follow up, by all possible means, a discovery of which the laws, once recognised and regulated, are perhaps intended to revolutionise the world.’

And while approaching the queen, Gilbert had looked at her, in his turn, with that power of will to which the nervous Andre had succumbed. The queen felt a chill run through her veins as he drew nearer to her.

‘Infamy,’ said she, ‘be the reward of those men who makes an abuse of certain dark and mysterious arts to ruin both the soul and body. May infamy rest upon the head of Cagliostro !’

‘Ah I* replied Gilbert, with an accent of conviction, ‘beware, madame, of judging the faults committed by human beings with so much severity.’

‘Sir ‘

‘Every one is liable to err, madame; all human beings commit injuries on their fellow-creatures, and were it not for individual egotism, which is the foundation of general safety, the world would become but one great battlefield. Those are the best who are good, that is all. Indulgence must be the greater, madame, in proportion to the elevated rank of the judge. Seated as you are on so exalted a throne, you have less right than any other person to be severe towards the faults of others. On you* worldly throne, you should be supremely indulgent, like God, who upon His heavenly throne is supremely merciful.’

‘Sir,’ said the queen, ‘I view my rights in a different light from you, and especially my duties. I am on the throne to punish or reward.’

‘I do not think so, madame. In my opinion, on the contrary, you are seated on the throne, you, a woman and a queen, to conciliate and to forgive.’

*t suppose you are not moralising, sir.’

‘You are right, madame, and I was only replying to your majesty. This Cagliostro, for instance, madame, of whom you were speaking a few moments since and whose science you were contesting I remember-and this is a remembrance of something anterior to yout recollection of Trianon I remember that in the gardens of the Chateau de Taverney, he had occasion to give the

4d TAKING THE BASTILLE

dau phi ness of France a proof of his science I know not what it was, madame -out you must recollect it well s for that proof made a profound impression upon her, even so much as to cause her to faint.’

Gilbert was now striking blows In his turn; it is true that he was dealing them at random, but he was favoured by chance, and they hit the mark so truly, that the queen became pale.

‘Yes,’ said she, in a hoarse voice, ‘yes, he made me see, as in a dream, a hideous machine; but I know not that, up to the present time, such a machine has ever really existed.’

‘I know not what he made you see, madame,’ rejoined Gilbert, who felt satisfied with the effect he had produced, ‘but I do know that it is impossible to dispute the appellation of learned to a man who wields such a power as that over his fellow -creatures.’

‘His fellow-creatures,’ murmured the queen disdainfully.

‘Be it so I am mistaken,’ replied Gilbert; ‘and his power is so much the more wonderful, that It reduces to a level with himself under the yoke of fear, the heads of monarchs and princes of the earth.’

‘ Infamy I infamy I I say again, upon those who take advantage of the weakness or the credulity of others.’

‘Infamous ! did you call infamous those who make use of science?’

‘Their science u nothing but chimeras, lies, and cowardice. This Cagliostro Is a cowardly mountebank, and that his pretended magnetic sleep is a crime. It is the result of some potion, some philtre, some poison and human justice, which I represent, will be able to discover the mystery, and punish the inventor.’

‘Madame, madame,’ rejoined Gilbert, with the same patience as before, ‘a little indulgence, I beg, for those who have erred.’

‘Ah 1 you confess their guilt, then?’

The queen was mistaken, and thought from the mild tone of Gilbert’s voice, that he was supplicating pardon for himself. She was in error, and Gilbert did not allow the advantage she had thus given him to escape.

‘What? 1 said he, dilating his flashing eyes, Defore the gaze of which Marie Antoinette was compelled to lowei hers, as if suddenly daxzled by the rays of the sun.

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The queen remained confounded for a moment, and then, making an effort to speak,

‘A queen can no more be questioned than she can bo wounded,’ said she : ‘learn to know that also, you who have but so newly arrived at court. But you were speaking, it seems to me, of those who have erred, and you asked me to be indulgent towards them.’

‘Alas I madame said Gilbert, ‘where is the human creature who is not liable to reproach ? Is it he who has ensconced himself so closely within the deep shell of his conscience that the look of others cannot penetrate it? It is this which is often denominated virtue. Be indulgent, madame.’

‘But according to this opinion, then,’ replied the queen imprudently, ‘there is no virtuous being in your estima-tion, sir; you who are the pupil of those men whose prying eyes seek the truth, even in the deepest recesses of the human conscience.’

‘It is true, madame.’

She laughed, and without seeking to conceal the contempt which her laughter expressed.

‘Oh I pray, sir,’ exclaimed she, ‘do remember that you are not now speaking on a public square, to idiots, to peasants, or to patriots.’

‘I am aware to whom I am speaking, madame; of this you may be fully persuaded,’ replied Gilbert.

‘Show more respect then, sir, or more adroitness; consider your past life, recall to your mind all that you may have conceived that was vile, hurtful, and criminal ail the cruelties, the deeds, the crimes even, you have committed. Do not interrupt me; and when you have summed up all your misdeeds, learned doctor, you will bow down your head, and become more humble. That, sir, is what you ought to do. You will be thought the better of, on account of your repentance. Believe me, the best mode of healing a soul so diseased as yours, would be to live in solitude, far from the grandeurs which give men false ideas of their own worth. I would advise you, therefore, not to approach the court, and to abandon the idea of attending the king during sickness. You have a cure to accomplish, for which God will esteem you more than for any other the cure of yourself. Antiquity had a proverb which expressed the following maxim, sir I ” Ipst cura nudid” ‘

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Gilbert, instead of being irritated at this proposal, which the queen considered as the most disagreeable of conclusions, replied with gentleness, ‘Madame, I have already done all that your majesty advises.’

‘And what have you done, sir?’

‘I have meditated.’

‘Upon yourself?’

‘Yes, upon myself, madame.’

‘And in regard to your conscience?’

‘Especially on the subject of my conscience, madame.’

‘Do you think, then, I am sufficiently well informed of what you saw in it?’

‘I do not know what your majesty means by those words, but I think I can discover their meaning, which is, ” how many times a man of my age must have offended God?’”

‘Really yon speak of God ?’

‘Why not? I speak of God, and I believe in Him.’

‘And you are still determined not to withdraw from court?’

‘No, madame, I remain.’

And the queen’s countenance assumed a threatening expression, which it would be impossible to describe.

‘Oh I I have reflected much upon the subject, madame, and my reflections have led me to know that I am not less worthy than another; every one has his faults. I learned this axiom not by pondering over books, but by searching the consciences of others.’

‘You are universal and infallible, are you not?’ said the queen ironically.

‘Alas 1 madame, if I am not universal, if I am not infallible, I am nevertheless very learned in human misery, well versed in the greatest sorrows of the mind. And this is so true, that I could tell, by merely seeing the livid circle round your wearied eyes, by merely seeing the line which extends from one eyebrow to the other, by merely seeing at the corners of your mouth a contraction which is called by the prosaic name of wrinkle I can *ell you, madame, kow many severe trials you have undergone, how many times your heart has palpitated with anguish, to how many secret dreams of joy your heart has abandoned itself, to discover its terror on awaking.