Most persons have encountered,
in certain provinces in France,
a number of Chevaliers de Valois.
One lived in Normandy, another
at Bourges, a third (with whom
we have here to do) flourished
in Alencon, and doubtless the
South possesses others. The number
of the Valesian tribe is, however,
of no consequence to the present
tale. All these chevaliers, among
whom were doubtless some who
were Valois as Louis XIV. was
Bourbon, knew so little of one
another that it was not advisable
to speak to one about the others.
They were all willing to leave
the Bourbons in tranquil possession
of the throne of France; for
it was too plainly established
that Henri IV. became king for
want of a male heir in the first
Orleans branch called the Valois.
If there are any Valois, they
descend from Charles de Valois,
Duc d'Angouleme, son of Charles
IX. and Marie Touchet, the male
line from whom ended, until proof
to the contrary be produced,
in the person of the Abbe de
Rothelin. The Valois-Saint-Remy,
who descended from Henri II.,
also came to an end in the famous
Lamothe-Valois implicated in
the affair
of the Diamond Necklace.
Each of these
many chevaliers, if we may
believe reports, was,
like the Chevalier of Alencon,
an old gentleman, tall, thin,
withered, and moneyless. He of
Bourges had emigrated; he of
Touraine hid himself; he of Alencon
fought in La Vendee and "chouanized" somewhat.
The youth of the latter was spend
in Paris, where the Revolution
overtook him when thirty years
of age in the midst of his conquests
and gallantries.
The Chevalier de Valois of
Alencon was accepted by the highest
aristocracy of the province as
a genuine Valois; and he distinguished
himself, like the rest of his
homonyms, by excellent manners,
which proved him a man of society.
He dined out every day, and played
cards every evening. He was thought
witty, thanks to his foible for
relating a quantity of anecdotes
on the reign of Louis XV. and
the beginnings of the Revolution.
When these tales were heard for
the first time, they were held
to be well narrated. He had,
moreover, the great merit of
not repeating his personal bons
mots and of never speaking of
his love-affairs, though his
smiles and his airs and graces
were delightfully indiscreet.
The worthy gentleman used his
privilege as a Voltairean noble
to stay away from mass; and great
indulgence was shown to his irreligion
because of his devotion to the
royal cause. One of his particular
graces was the air and manner
(imitated, no doubt, from Mole)
with which he took snuff from
a gold box adorned with the portrait
of the Princess Goritza,--a charming
Hungarian, celebrated for her
beauty in the last years of the
reign of Louis XV. Having been
attached during his youth to
that illustrious stranger, he
still mentioned her with emotion.
For her sake he had fought a
duel with Monsieur de Lauzun.
The chevalier,
now fifty-eight years of age,
owned to only fifty;
and he might well allow himself
that innocent deception, for,
among the other advantages granted
to fair thin persons, he managed
to preserve the still youthful
figure which saves men as well
as women from an appearance of
old age. Yes, remember this:
all of life, or rather all the
elegance that expresses life,
is in the figure. Among the chevalier's
other possessions must be counted
an enormous nose with which nature
had endowed him. This nose vigorously
divided a pale face into two
sections which seemed to have
no knowledge of each other, for
one side would redden under the
process of digestion, while the
other continued white. This fact
is worthy of remark at a period
when physiology is so busy with
the human heart. The incandescence,
so to call it, was on the left
side. Though his long slim legs,
supporting a lank body, and his
pallid skin, were not indicative
of health, Monsieur de Valois
ate like an ogre and declared
he had a malady called in the
provinces "hot liver," perhaps
to excuse his monstrous appetite.
The circumstance of his singular
flush confirmed this declaration;
but in a region where repasts
are developed on the line of
thirty or forty dishes and last
four hours, the chevalier's stomach
would seem to have been a blessing
bestowed by Providence on the
good town of Alencon. According
to certain doctors, heat on the
left side denotes a prodigal
heart. The chevalier's gallantries
confirmed this scientific assertion,
the responsibility for which
does not rest, fortunately, on
the historian.
In spite of
these symptoms, Monsieur de
Valois' constitution
was vigorous, consequently long-lived.
If his liver "heated," to use
an old-fashioned word, his heart
was not less inflammable. His
face was wrinkled and his hair
silvered; but an intelligent
observer would have recognized
at once the stigmata of passion
and the furrows of pleasure which
appeared in the crow's-feet and
the marches-du-palais, so prized
at the court of Cythera. Everything
about this dainty chevalier bespoke
the "ladies' man." He was so
minute in his ablutions that
his cheeks were a pleasure to
look upon; they seemed to have
been laved in some miraculous
water. The part of his skull
which his hair refused to cover
shone like ivory. His eyebrows,
like his hair, affected youth
by the care and regularity with
which they were combed. His skin,
already white, seemed to have
been extra-whitened by some secret
compound. Without using perfumes,
the chevalier exhaled a certain
fragrance of youth, that refreshed
the atmosphere. His hands, which
were those of a gentleman, and
were cared for like the hands
of a pretty woman, attracted
the eye to their rosy, well-shaped
nails. In short, had it not been
for his magisterial and stupendous
nose, the chevalier might have
been thought a trifle too dainty.
We must here compel ourselves
to spoil this portrait by the
avowal of a littleness. The chevalier
put cotton in his ears, and wore,
appended to them, two little
ear-rings representing negroes'
heads in diamonds, of admirable
workmanship. He clung to these
singular appendages, explaining
that since his ears had been
bored he had ceased to have headaches
(he had had headaches). We do
not present the chevalier as
an accomplished man; but surely
we can pardon, in an old celibate
whose heart sends so much blood
to his left cheek, these adorable
qualities, founded, perhaps,
on some sublime secret history.
Besides, the Chevalier de Valois
redeemed those negroes' heads
by so many other graces that
society felt itself sufficiently
compensated. He really took such
immense trouble to conceal his
age and give pleasure to his
friends. In the first place,
we must call attention to the
extreme care he gave to his linen,
the only distinction that well-
bred men can nowadays exhibit
in their clothes. The linen of
the chevalier was invariably
of a fineness and whiteness that
were truly aristocratic. As for
his coat, though remarkable for
its cleanliness, it was always
half worn-out, but without spots
or creases. The preservation
of that garment was something
marvellous to those who noticed
the chevalier's high-bred indifference
to its shabbiness. He did not
go so far as to scrape the seams
with glass,--a refinement invented
by the Prince of Wales; but he
did practice the rudiments of
English elegance with a personal
satisfaction little understood
by the people of Alencon. The
world owes a great deal to persons
who take such pains to please
it. In this there is certainly
some accomplishment of that most
difficult precept of the Gospel
about rendering good for evil.
This freshness of ablution and
all the other little cares harmonized
charmingly with the blue eyes,
the ivory teeth, and the blond
person of the old chevalier.
The only blemish was that this
retired Adonis had nothing manly
about him; he seemed to be employing
this toilet varnish to hide the
ruins occasioned by the military
service of gallantry only. But
we must hasten to add that his
voice produced what might be
called an antithesis to his blond
delicacy. Unless you adopted
the opinion of certain observers
of the human heart, and thought
that the chevalier had the voice
of his nose, his organ of speech
would have amazed you by its
full and redundant sound. Without
possessing the volume of classical
bass voices, the tone of it was
pleasing from a slightly muffled
quality like that of an English
bugle, which is firm and sweet,
strong but velvety.
The chevalier had repudiated
the ridiculous costume still
preserved by certain monarchical
old men; he had frankly modernized
himself. He was always seen in
a maroon-colored coat with gilt
buttons, half-tight breeches
of poult-de-soie with gold buckles,
a white waistcoat without embroidery,
and a tight cravat showing no
shirt-collar,--a last vestige
of the old French costume which
he did not renounce, perhaps,
because it enabled him to show
a neck like that of the sleekest
abbe. His shoes were noticeable
for their square buckles, a style
of which the present generation
has no knowledge; these buckles
were fastened to a square of
polished black leather. The chevalier
allowed two watch-chains to hang
parallel to each other from each
of his waistcoat pockets,--another
vestige of the eighteenth century,
which the Incroyables had not
disdained to use under the Directory.
This transition costume, uniting
as it did two centuries, was
worn by the chevalier with the
high-bred grace of an old French
marquis, the secret of which
is lost to France since the day
when Fleury, Mole's last pupil,
vanished.
The private life of this old
bachelor was apparently open
to all eyes, though in fact it
was quite mysterious. He lived
in a lodging that was modest,
to say the best of it, in the
rue du Cours, on the second floor
of a house belonging to Madame
Lardot, the best and busiest
washerwoman in the town. This
circumstance will explain the
excessive nicety of his linen.
Ill-luck would have it that the
day came when Alencon was guilty
of believing that the chevalier
had not always comported himself
as a gentleman should, and that
in fact he was secretly married
in his old age to a certain Cesarine,--the
mother of a child which had had
the impertinence to come into
the world without being called
for.
"He had given his hand," as
a certain Monsieur du Bousquier
remarked, "to the person who
had long had him under irons."
This horrible calumny embittered
the last days of the dainty chevalier
all the more because, as the
present Scene will show, he had
lost a hope long cherished to
which he had made many sacrifices.
Madame Lardot leased to the
chevalier two rooms on the second
floor of her house, for the modest
sum of one hundred francs a year.
The worthy gentleman dined out
every day, returning only in
time to go to bed. His sole expense
therefore was for breakfast,
invariably composed of a cup
of chocolate, with bread and
butter and fruits in their season.
He made no fire except in the
coldest winter, and then only
enough to get up by. Between
eleven and four o'clock he walked
about, went to read the papers,
and paid visits. From the time
of his settling in Alencon he
had nobly admitted his poverty,
saying that his whole fortune
consisted in an annuity of six
hundred francs a year, the sole
remains of his former opulence,--a
property which obliged him to
see his man of business (who
held the annuity papers) quarterly.
In truth, one of the Alencon
bankers paid him every three
months one hundred and fifty
francs, sent down by Monsieur
Bordin of Paris, the last of
the procureurs du Chatelet. Every
one knew these details because
the chevalier exacted the utmost
secrecy from the persons to whom
he first confided them.
Monsieur de
Valois gathered the fruit of
his misfortunes.
His place at table was laid in
all the most distinguished houses
in Alencon, and he was bidden
to all soirees. His talents as
a card-player, a narrator, an
amiable man of the highest breeding,
were so well known and appreciated
that parties would have seemed
a failure if the dainty connoisseur
was absent. Masters of houses
and their wives felt the need
of his approving grimace. When
a young woman heard the chevalier
say at a ball, "You are delightfully
well-dressed!" she was more pleased
at such praise than she would
have been at mortifying a rival.
Monsieur de Valois was the only
man who could perfectly pronounce
certain phrases of the olden
time. The words, "my heart," "my
jewel," "my little pet," "my
queen," and the amorous diminutives
of 1770, had a grace that was
quite irresistible when they
came from his lips. In short,
the chevalier had the privilege
of superlatives. His compliments,
of which he was stingy, won the
good graces of all the old women;
he made himself agreeable to
every one, even to the officials
of the government, from whom
he wanted nothing. His behavior
at cards had a lofty distinction
which everybody noticed: he never
complained; he praised his adversaries
when they lost; he did not rebuke
or teach his partners by showing
them how they ought to have played.
When, in the course of a deal,
those sickening dissertations
on the game would take place,
the chevalier invariably drew
out his snuff-box with a gesture
that was worthy of Mole, looked
at the Princess Goritza, raised
the cover with dignity, shook,
sifted, massed the snuff, and
gathered his pinch, so that by
the time the cards were dealt
he had decorated both nostrils
and replaced the princess in
his waistcoat pocket,--always
on his left side. A gentleman
of the "good" century (in distinction
from the "grand" century) could
alone have invented that compromise
between contemptuous silence
and a sarcasm which might not
have been understood. He accepted
poor players and knew how to
make the best of them. His delightful
equability of temper made many
persons say,--
"I do admire
the Chevalier de Valois!"
His conversation,
his manners, seemed bland,
like his person.
He endeavored to shock neither
man nor woman. Indulgent to defects
both physical and mental, he
listened patiently (by the help
of the Princess Goritza) to the
many dull people who related
to him the petty miseries of
provincial life,--an egg ill-boiled
for breakfast, coffee with feathered
cream, burlesque details about
health, disturbed sleep, dreams,
visits. The chevalier could call
up a languishing look, he could
take on a classic attitude to
feign compassion, which made
him a most valuable listener;
he could put in an "Ah!" and
a "Bah!" and a "What DID you
do?" with charming appropriateness.
He died without any one suspecting
him of even an allusion to the
tender passages of his romance
with the Princess Goritza. Has
any one ever reflected on the
service a dead sentiment can
do to society; how love may become
both social and useful? This
will serve to explain why, in
spite of his constant winning
at play (he never left a salon
without carrying off with him
about six francs), the old chevalier
remained the spoilt darling of
the town. His losses--which,
by the bye, he always proclaimed,
were very rare.
All who know him declare that
they have never met, not even
in the Egyptian museum at Turin,
so agreeable a mummy. In no country
in the world did parasitism ever
take on so pleasant a form. Never
did selfishness of a most concentrated
kind appear less forth-putting,
less offensive, than in this
old gentleman; it stood him in
place of devoted friendship.
If some one asked Monsieur de
Valois to do him a little service
which might have discommoded
him, that some one did not part
from the worthy chevalier without
being truly enchanted with him,
and quite convinced that he either
could not do the service demanded,
or that he should injure the
affair if he meddled in it.
To explain
the problematic existence of
the chevalier, the
historian, whom Truth, that cruel
wanton, grasps by the throat,
is compelled to say that after
the "glorious" sad days of July,
Alencon discovered that the chevalier's
nightly winnings amounted to
about one hundred and fifty francs
every three months; and that
the clever old nobleman had had
the pluck to send to himself
his annuity in order not to appear
in the eyes of a community, which
loves the main chance, to be
entirely without resources. Many
of his friends (he was by that
time dead, you will please remark)
have contested mordicus this
curious fact, declaring it to
be a fable, and upholding the
Chevalier de Valois as a respectable
and worthy gentleman whom the
liberals calumniated. Luckily
for shrewd players, there are
people to be found among the
spectators who will always sustain
them. Ashamed of having to defend
a piece of wrong-doing, they
stoutly deny it. Do not accuse
them of wilful infatuation; such
men have a sense of their dignity;
governments set them the example
of a virtue which consists in
burying their dead without chanting
the Misere of their defeats.
If the chevalier did allow himself
this bit of shrewd practice,--which,
by the bye, would have won him
the regard of the Chevalier de
Gramont, a smile from the Baron
de Foeneste, a shake of the hand
from the Marquis de Moncade,--was
he any the less that amiable
guest, that witty talker, that
imperturbable card-player, that
famous teller of anecdotes, in
whom all Alencon took delight?
Besides, in what way was this
action, which is certainly within
the rights of a man's own will,
--in what way was it contrary
to the ethics of a gentleman?
When so many persons are forced
to pay annuities to others, what
more natural than to pay one
to his own best friend? But Laius
is dead--
To return to
the period of which we are
writing: after about
fifteen years of this way of
life the chevalier had amassed
ten thousand and some odd hundred
francs. On the return of the
Bourbons, one of his old friends,
the Marquis de Pombreton, formerly
lieutenant in the Black mousquetaires,
returned to him--so he said--twelve
hundred pistoles which he had
lent to the marquis for the purpose
of emigrating. This event made
a sensation; it was used later
to refute the sarcasms of the "Constitutionnel," on
the method employed by some emigres
in paying their debts. When this
noble act of the Marquis de Pombreton
was lauded before the chevalier,
the good man reddened even to
his right cheek. Every one rejoiced
frankly at this windfall for
Monsieur de Valois, who went
about consulting moneyed people
as to the safest manner of investing
this fragment of his past opulence.
Confiding in the future of the
Restoration, he finally placed
his money on the Grand-Livre
at the moment when the funds
were at fifty-six francs and
twenty-five centimes. Messieurs
de Lenoncourt, de Navarreins,
de Verneuil, de Fontaine, and
La Billardiere, to whom he was
known, he said, obtained for
him, from the king's privy purse,
a pension of three hundred francs,
and sent him, moreover, the cross
of Saint- Louis. Never was it
known positively by what means
the old chevalier obtained these
two solemn consecrations of his
title and merits. But one thing
is certain; the cross of Saint-Louis
authorized him to take the rank
of retired colonel in view of
his service in the Catholic armies
of the West.
Besides his
fiction of an annuity, about
which no one at the present
time knew anything, the chevalier
really had, therefore, a bona
fide income of a thousand francs.
But in spite of this bettering
of his circumstances, he made
no change in his life, manners,
or appearance, except that the
red ribbon made a fine effect
on his maroon-colored coat, and
completed, so to speak, the physiognomy
of a gentleman. After 1802, the
chevalier sealed his letters
with a very old seal, ill-engraved
to be sure, by which the Casterans,
the d'Esgrignons, the Troisvilles
were enabled to see that he bore:
Party of France, two cottises
gemelled gules, and gules, five
mascles or, placed end to end;
on a chief sable, a cross argent.
For crest, a knight's helmet.
For motto: "Valeo." Bearing such
noble arms, the so-called bastard
of the Valois had the right to
get into all the royal carriages
of the world.
Many persons envied the quiet
existence of this old bachelor,
spent on whist, boston, backgammon,
reversi, and piquet, all well
played, on dinners well digested,
snuff gracefully inhaled, and
tranquil walks about the town.
Nearly all Alencon believed this
life to be exempt from ambitions
and serious interests; but no
man has a life as simple as envious
neighbors attribute to him. You
will find in the most out- of-the
way villages human mollusks,
creatures apparently dead, who
have passions for lepidoptera
or for conchology, let us say,--beings
who will give themselves infinite
pains about moths, butterflies,
or the concha Veneris. Not only
did the chevalier have his own
particular shells, but he cherished
an ambitious desire which he
pursued with a craft so profound
as to be worthy of Sixtus the
Fifth: he wanted to marry a certain
rich old maid, with the intention,
no doubt, of making her a stepping-stone
by which to reach the more elevated
regions of the court. There,
then, lay the secret of his royal
bearing and of his residence
in Alencon.
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