by Eugène Sue
I looked straight at M. de Sérigny. It took all my command over myself not to burst out laughing. From the turn his proposal had taken, it no longer seemed a question of exile, but of transportation.
“But you must be aware,” said I, preserving my composure, “that, in the event of this conversation having any sequence, I have not the ridiculous pretension to aim at one bound at a European mission.”
“You must understand one thing,” continued the minister, with ever increasing satisfaction, “missions are more or less important just as you make them. There are some very insignificant ones in Europe, while there are some vastly important ones in Asia, for instance. It cannot be disguised that it is not in Europe, but in the Orient, that the fate of Europe will in future be decided. The future policy of Europe is in the East! Europe has her eyes fixed on the East! There is the field of battle where the great negotiators of our times must be formed! For instance,” said M. de Sérigny, looking steadily at me, “at this very moment I would like to find a man of good birth, with a keen, subtle intelligence, agreeable manners, and firm, resolute character, to whom I could entrust one of the most delicate missions. It is a question of securing the good-will and support of an important Oriental power, without arousing the suspicions, the susceptible jealousies, of Russia and England, our eternal rivals in the East.”
“This mission, in fact, seems to me of great importance,” I said, with the most disinterested air in the world.
“Is it not? Well, I may almost venture to say that I could secure that legation for you, so great is my confidence in your capacity, so much have I at heart to make some return for your father’s kindness.”
“Such a mission, to me!” I exclaimed, feigning the utmost astonishment.
M. de Sérigny assumed a deep, mysterious air, and said:
“M. de — , I am speaking to a man of honour; whether or not you accept the proposition I have just made, will you give me your word that all this will remain secret between us?”
“I give you my word, monsieur.”
“Well,” he continued, not less mysteriously, “under the frivolous pretext of carrying rich gifts from his Majesty, the King of France, to the Shah of Persia, the object is to skilfully, adroitly, and forcibly gain the ascendency over the mind of that Asiatic prince so as to dispose him to accept favourably, at some later date, overtures of considerable importance which would hereafter be communicated to the envoy charged with this weighty negotiation. These interests, I will allow, are of the highest consequence. The gifts are ready, the instructions are drawn up, the vessel awaits, — and it is expected you should leave without delay.”
My suppressed merriment was at its height, on hearing the minister propose to me seriously to start off immediately in order that I might exercise my powers of pleasing on the Shah of Persia, to further a mission of the most absurd insignificance, in spite of M. de Sérigny’s efforts to make it appear of vast importance.
The minister waited for my reply with unconcealed anxiety.
I felt a certain remorse at making a man of his age and position play so foolish a part, and at prolonging this comedy.
This proposition, unacceptable as it was, had aroused in me certain slumbering ideas. Unhappy in my love for Madame de Fersen, realising that it would be impossible for me, for some time at least, to entertain another affection, and dreading inactivity above all, I determined to utilise, if possible, M. de Sérigny’s goodwill.
“Monsieur,” I said, “although the difference in our ages is great, will you permit me, in my turn, to speak to you with the fullest, I might say with the most brutal, freedom?”
“Certainly,” said the minister, greatly astonished.
“If the praiseworthy and generous motives that you have set forth, monsieur, indicate your firm intention to try me in the diplomatic career, I trust you will not take exception at my endeavouring to give you a proof of the extent of my penetration?”
“What do you mean, monsieur?”
“Let us speak freely, M. de Sérigny: you are in love with a charming woman that we both know; my attentions to her annoy you, and you propose to get me out of the way by sending me to the Shah of Persia!”
“Monsieur!” cried the minister, in an offended tone.
“Permit me to continue,” said I. “There is no need of my leaving to reassure you. I give you my word of honour that my intercourse with the lady of whom I have the honour to speak is simply of a friendly nature, and, with the exception of an innocent and trifling flirtation, nothing can justify your suspicions.”
M. de Sérigny appeared at first greatly irritated; nevertheless he said, with a forced smile: “After what has passed between us, it is inevitable either that we cut each other’s throat, or become fast friends.”
“Your choice is mine, monsieur.”
“My choice is made,” said M. de Sérigny, holding out his hand.
There was so much cordiality in his movement, he exercised so great a self-control to drive back his proud susceptibility and wounded self-love in the presence of a man of my years, that, deeply touched by his action, I said:
“If you believe all the good you have said of me, monsieur, you will attach no importance to this conversation. Attribute only to your high reputation for wisdom my earnest desire to demonstrate that I could penetrate your views. Pardon me for being so foolishly proud of my victory, for it was very flattering to me. As to fancying myself your rival with a certain charming person, my word must have reassured you regarding the past and the present. As to the future, there is one infallible way of setting aside your suspicions, — it is by asking a favour of you. Bound to you by gratitude, I would be base indeed were I to endanger your happiness in the slightest degree.”
After a few moments of silence, M. de Sérigny said to me, with infinite good nature: “You speak so frankly, that it is impossible, I see, to hide one’s meaning; one must deny all, or acknowledge all, and I prefer the last, for you are a man of honour, and very safe. All the same, it is very odd. Here am I, a man of my age, confiding my amourettes to a young man who has been very wittily making fun of me, and has said so to my face, and has so embarrassed me by confiding to me not his, but my love affairs, that I find myself in the most absurd position possible. Fortunately, you tell me that I may in some way do you a good turn, which saves me from being absolutely ridiculous,” he added, with perfect graciousness.
“Well then, monsieur, here is the point in question: although I do not consider my qualifications sufficient to bewitch the Shah of Persia—”
“Let us say no more about that!” gaily said M. de Sérigny. “You strike a foe when he is down.”
“I will confess your proposal has aroused in me, not ambition, but a desire to become acquainted with political matters, that I may see if my mind could some day turn. I do not know whether you find in me now the same qualifications.”
“Ah, M. le comte, M. le comte!” said M. de Sérigny, shaking his finger at me menacingly.
“Admitting it then, all that I would ask of your kindness would be that, in the event of your needing hereafter a private secretary, you will admit me for a few hours each day in your study. In this capacity, I will place myself entirely at your service, and you may entrust me with such papers as you think you may hand to a safe, trustworthy man. After this trial, I shall really know whether I have any aptitude for business; and later, if I thought I could fill successfully a modest diplomatic mission, I would then remind you of the debt you still owe my father.”
“Another epigram!” said M. de Sérigny; “but what matters! And really now, do these tiresome duties not frighten you? Will you have the courage to come and work with me daily for three or four hours in my study?”
“I will have the courage.”
“Perhaps you will not believe that your proposal comes most opportunely; and yet every one is aware that my private secretary has just been appointed to the ARTHUR. legation at Florence. I do not offer you the position, but I
offer you the share he had in my work.”
“And I accept with all my heart, and most gratefully.” Touched by his kindness, and wishing to dispel the annoyance he might still feel at the advantage I had attained over him in this interview, I continued: “Look at the eccentricities of the human mind, and how by contrary ways one reaches the same end. You came to me with two very firmly set ideas: you wished to get out of your way a rival whom you feared, and to attach to the service of your country a man whose worth, you say, you discerned. I firmly declined your offers; and yet, not by the power of your will, but by mine, you obtain the desired end; for now I can no longer be a subject of jealousy to you, and I am going to share your work. After that,” I exclaimed, “who will dare to say that I have tricked you? Come, come, M. de Sérigny, I am compelled to acknowledge that you are vastly above your reputation, and what I called my victory is no more than a fortunate defeat.”
I made an appointment for the following day with the minister, and we parted.
CHAPTER XXI.
DIPLOMACY.
WHEN M. DE Sérigny had left me, I fell back into the bitter thoughts from which this interview had drawn me.
In spite of my efforts to drive away all thought of Madame de Fersen, I could not succeed. I suffered greatly, but my grief, though deep, had a certain charm which I had not previously known.
I was conscious of having conducted myself nobly towards Catherine, of not deserving her severe disapproval, and this comforting consciousness gave me a proud and courageous resignation.
I have always faced boldly the most cruel phases of my life. No hope was left to me of ever gaining Madame de Fersen’s love. I therefore gathered religiously in my heart and memory the slightest traces of this ineffable love, as one gathers the sacred and precious remnants of a departed being, to come daily and contemplate them with dreamy sadness, and ask of them the melancholy charm of memory.
Not wishing, however, to be prostrated, and hoping to find some distraction in work, I went assiduously to M. de Sérigny’s study.
He was truly an excellent man.
He showed himself full of kindness to me. Having doubtless assured himself of my scrupulous discretion, he soon gave me a flattering mark of his confidence in me, by entrusting me to make a clear and concise summing up of his diplomatic correspondence. This brief was to be handed daily to the king.
This work, it is true, appeared of much greater importance than it really was, since there was at that time no great political question pending in Europe. Almost all these despatches, written mostly in very faint ink, and very poor French, contained only vague and trifling particulars about foreign courts, particulars which had frequently even been discounted in the public print.
I convinced myself of that which I had always surmised, that in modern times, and with a representative government like ours, diplomacy which may be called current is almost nothing; the vital questions of nations are fought on fields of battle, in the Chambers, or in congresses.
Most of the time (I speak only of representative governments) diplomatic positions are mere sinecures which ministers use as a means of action or corruption, by disposing of them by political expediency.
I was all the more struck by the futility of the correspondence under my eyes, because my father had formerly made me almost go through a whole course of political law, and I had studied with him the most famous negotiators of the latter half of the seventeenth century. My great-great-grandfather having filled certain missions conjointly with Messieurs d’Avaux, de Lyonne, and Courtin, we had at Serval a duplicate of his despatches and theirs, and I must confess that the reading of these documents had made me very fastidious.
M. Sérigny himself was a man of second-rate ability; but he had enough tact, shrewdness, and perspicacity to enable him to respond to the modest requirements of his position. When he fought the Opposition in the Chambers, he could extinguish, drown, the most heated discussion with the clear flow of his abundant words, cold and monotonous as a waterfall.
From the constitutional point of view M. de Sérigny could just as well have been Minister of Marine, of Justice, or of Finances as Minister of Foreign Affairs, but from the real, special point of view of these ministries, he was incapable of filling any.
I kept to myself my opinion of M. de Sérigny. He had been kind to me, and I was not Pommerive. Far from it, I defended my minister with all my might.
My duties amused me a good deal, for the very reason that their futility contrasted in a flagrant manner with their supposed importance.
The knowledge of these facts aroused in me charitable sentiments; I became very tolerant of that pitiless and affected self-importance, thanks to which most of our diplomatic agents always deceive the public on the value and the necessity of their position.
Without this prestige, they would cease to exist.
If I have never had the whim to become the associate or the dupe of a juggler, neither have I been malicious enough, when I fancied I had discovered his tricks, to proclaim it aloud, thus depriving the poor devil of his audience; for I never could picture to myself the future of a juggler deprived of his trade. I would, therefore, advise poor parents who destine their sons to a diplomatic career to be wise enough, to have sufficient foresight, to make them also learn some good solid trade which may some day be a useful resource should unexpected accidents deprive them of their first career.
This is not a brutal paradox. The essential specialty of our diplomats, consisting in worthily representing France, that is, in having a grand house and retinue at the expense of the state, in leading a luxurious, worldly, and amusing life, in receiving and writing insignificant despatches, it is difficult to imagine how these fine qualities could be employed when no longer exercising the profession which required them.
My new position with M. de Sérigny soon became known, and gave me singular authority in the world.
People knew that I had not sought a place, in devoting myself assiduously to the work on which I was engaged, and they naturally concluded that my apprenticeship must lead to high destinies.
Circumstances occurred which contributed to these exaggerated rumours.
It was at a ball at the Duchesse de Bern’s.
M. de Sérigny was laid up with the gout, and therefore could not be present. Lord Stuart, the British ambassador, who had earnestly urged our government to take the most active steps to discover the pirate of Porquerolles, came up to tell me that they were on the tracks of the wretch, hoped soon to reach him, and asked me for further particulars of the affair. He took my arm, and we had a half-hour’s talk in the recess of a window.
This was enough to make people believe that I was far advanced in what is benignantly called “secrets of state.”
This was not all: about eleven o’clock I was going to leave the ball just at the moment the king was taking his departure.
I had had the honour to be presented to him; he stopped in front of me, and said, with his customary gracious affability:
“I read your reports every day. I am pleased with them, they interest me; they are very satisfying, and, thanks to you, I have the harvest without the trouble of reaping.”
“The king overwhelms me,” I said to his majesty, “and his approbation is a favour which imposes new duties; and I will endeavour to prove myself worthy of them.”
Instead of leaving the ball, the king seated himself on a sofa near at hand, and said to me:
“But tell me, what is all this I hear from Lord Stuart? It is very extraordinary, and sounds like a romance.”
When the king seated himself while speaking to me, the persons who accompanied him held themselves discreetly aside.
I related to the king the history of the pirate of Porquerolles; he listened with interest, put several questions to me, thanked me very graciously, and withdrew.
When the king had left, I became the centre of attraction; they could make nothing out of it. His majesty was leaving, he happens to meet me, and
thereupon he remains a quarter of an hour in particular conversation with me.
Decidedly, I must be a man of the highest importance.
I know that nothing is more ridiculous than to appear to take pride in such a success, and I prepared to quit the ball, when I saw Madame de Fersen coming towards me. I had not seen her for some time, and she seemed so changed, so fallen away, that I was shocked.
I saluted her without waiting for her, and retired, though she looked entreatingly at me, and she was evidently coming towards me with the intention of speaking to me.
The next day I received a letter from her.
She begged me in touching terms to come and see her, apologising for her ingratitude, and making some gracious allusions to the past.
My first impulse was to go to Catherine at once.
I reflected, however, that this meeting was not likely to change the fate of my love. I remembered the harshness with which Madame de Fersen had behaved, and foolishly fancied my dignity required that I should not yield to the first advance.
I wrote a very cold and polite letter, apologising for not going to her as she requested, and said she could not fail to understand my reasons.
To this she made no answer.
I concluded that she had not a very great desire to see me since she did not insist. I therefore congratulated myself on the course I had taken.