小说下载尽在http://bbs.txtnovel.com---书香门第【落英听雪】整理
附：【本作品来自互联网,本人不做任何负责】内容版权归作者所有!
Twenty Years After
by Alexandre Dumas [Pere]
1
The Shade of Cardinal Richelieu.
In a splendid chamber of the Palais Royal, formerly styled
the Palais Cardinal, a man was sitting in deep reverie, his
head supported on his hands, leaning over a gilt and inlaid
table which was covered with letters and papers. Behind this
figure glowed a vast fireplace alive with leaping flames;
great logs of oak blazed and crackled on the polished brass
andirons whose flicker shone upon the superb habiliments of
the lonely tenant of the room, which was illumined grandly
by twin candelabra rich with wax-lights.
Any one who happened at that moment to contemplate that red
simar -- the gorgeous robe of office -- and the rich lace,
or who gazed on that pale brow, bent in anxious meditation,
might, in the solitude of that apartment, combined with the
silence of the ante-chambers and the measured paces of the
guards upon the landing-place, have fancied that the shade
of Cardinal Richelieu lingered still in his accustomed
haunt.
It was, alas! the ghost of former greatness. France
enfeebled, the authority of her sovereign contemned, her
nobles returning to their former turbulence and insolence,
her enemies within her frontiers -- all proved the great
Richelieu no longer in existence.
In truth, that the red simar which occupied the wonted place
was his no longer, was still more strikingly obvious from
the isolation which seemed, as we have observed, more
appropriate to a phantom than a living creature -- from the
corridors deserted by courtiers, and courts crowded with
guards -- from that spirit of bitter ridicule, which,
arising from the streets below, penetrated through the very
casements of the room, which resounded with the murmurs of a
whole city leagued against the minister; as well as from the
distant and incessant sounds of guns firing -- let off,
happily, without other end or aim, except to show to the
guards, the Swiss troops and the military who surrounded the
Palais Royal, that the people were possessed of arms.
The shade of Richelieu was Mazarin. Now Mazarin was alone
and defenceless, as he well knew.
"Foreigner!" he ejaculated, "Italian! that is their mean yet
mighty byword of reproach -- the watchword with which they
assassinated, hanged, and made away with Concini; and if I
gave them their way they would assassinate, hang, and make
away with me in the same manner, although they have nothing
to complain of except a tax or two now and then. Idiots!
ignorant of their real enemies, they do not perceive that it
is not the Italian who speaks French badly, but those who
can say fine things to them in the purest Parisian accent,
who are their real foes.
"Yes, yes," Mazarin continued, whilst his wonted smile, full
of subtlety, lent a strange expression to his pale lips;
"yes, these noises prove to me, indeed, that the destiny of
favorites is precarious; but ye shall know I am no ordinary
favorite. No! The Earl of Essex, 'tis true, wore a splendid
ring, set with diamonds, given him by his royal mistress,
whilst I -- I have nothing but a simple circlet of gold,
with a cipher on it and a date; but that ring has been
blessed in the chapel of the Palais Royal,* so they will
never ruin me, as they long to do, and whilst they shout,
`Down with Mazarin!' I, unknown, and unperceived by them,
incite them to cry out, `Long live the Duke de Beaufort' one
day; another, `Long live the Prince de Conde;' and again,
`Long live the parliament!'" And at this word the smile on
the cardinal's lips assumed an expression of hatred, of
which his mild countenance seemed incapable. "The
parliament! We shall soon see how to dispose," he continued,
"of the parliament! Both Orleans and Montargis are ours. It
will be a work of time, but those who have begun by crying
out: Down with Mazarin! will finish by shouting out, Down
with all the people I have mentioned, each in his turn.
* It is said that Mazarin, who, though a cardinal, had not
taken such vows as to prevent it, was secretly married to
Anne of Austria. -- La Porte's Memoirs.
"Richelieu, whom they hated during his lifetime and whom
they now praise after his death, was even less popular than
I am. Often he was driven away, oftener still had he a dread
of being sent away. The queen will never banish me, and even
were I obliged to yield to the populace she would yield with
me; if I fly, she will fly; and then we shall see how the
rebels will get on without either king or queen.
"Oh, were I not a foreigner! were I but a Frenchman! were I
but of gentle birth!"
The position of the cardinal was indeed critical, and recent
events had added to his difficulties. Discontent had long
pervaded the lower ranks of society in France. Crushed and
impoverished by taxation -- imposed by Mazarin, whose
avarice impelled him to grind them down to the very dust --
the people, as the Advocate-General Talon described it, had
nothing left to them except their souls; and as those could
not be sold by auction, they began to murmur. Patience had
in vain been recommended to them by reports of brilliant
victories gained by France; laurels, however, were not meat
and drink, and the people had for some time been in a state
of discontent.
Had this been all, it might not, perhaps, have greatly
signified; for when the lower classes alone complained, the
court of France, separated as it was from the poor by the
intervening classes of the gentry and the bourgeoisie,
seldom listened to their voice; but unluckily, Mazarin had
had the imprudence to attack the magistrates and had sold no
less than twelve appointments in the Court of Requests, at a
high price; and as the officers of that court paid very
dearly for their places, and as the addition of twelve new
colleagues would necessarily lower the value of each place,
the old functionaries formed a union amongst themselves,
and, enraged, swore on the Bible not to allow of this
addition to their number, but to resist all the persecutions
which might ensue; and should any one of them chance to
forfeit his post by this resistance, to combine to indemnify
him for his loss.
Now the following occurrences had taken place between the
two contending parties
On the seventh of January between seven and eight hundred
tradesmen had assembled in Paris to discuss a new tax which
was to be levied on house property. They deputed ten of
their number to wait upon the Duke of Orleans, who,
according to his custom, affected popularity. The duke
received them and they informed him that they were resolved
not to pay this tax, even if they were obliged to defend
themselves against its collectors by force of arms. They
were listened to with great politeness by the duke, who held
out hopes of easier measures, promised to speak in their
behalf to the queen, and dismissed them with the ordinary
expression of royalty, "We will see what we can do."
Two days afterward these same magistrates appeared before
the cardinal and their spokesman addressed Mazarin with so
much fearlessness and determination that the minister was
astounded and sent the deputation away with the same answer
as it had received from the Duke of Orleans -- that he would
see what could be done; and in accordance with that
intention a council of state was assembled and the
superintendent of finance was summoned.
This man, named Emery, was the object of popular
detestation, in the first place because he was
superintendent of finance, and every superintendent of
finance deserved to be hated; in the second place, because
he rather deserved the odium which he had incurred.
He was the son of a banker at Lyons named Particelli, who,
after becoming a bankrupt, chose to change his name to
Emery; and Cardinal Richelieu having discovered in him great
financial aptitude, had introduced him with a strong
recommendation to Louis XIII. under his assumed name, in
order that he might be appointed to the post he subsequently
held.
"You surprise me!" exclaimed the monarch. "I am rejoiced to
hear you speak of Monsieur d'Emery as calculated for a post
which requires a man of probity. I was really afraid that
you were going to force that villain Particelli upon me."
"Sire," replied Richelieu, "rest assured that Particelli,
the man to whom your majesty refers, has been hanged."
"Ah; so much the better!" exclaimed the king. "It is not for
nothing that I am styled Louis the Just." and he signed
Emery's appointment.
This was the same Emery who became eventually superintendent
of finance.
He was sent for by the ministers and he came before them
pale and trembling, declaring that his son had very nearly
been assassinated the day before, near the palace. The mob
had insulted him on account of the ostentatious luxury of
his wife, whose house was hung with red velvet edged with
gold fringe. This lady was the daughter of Nicholas de
Camus, who arrived in Paris with twenty francs in his
pocket, became secretary of state, and accumulated wealth
enough to divide nine millions of francs among his children
and to keep an income of forty thousand for himself.
The fact was that Emery's son had run a great chance of
being suffocated, one of the rioters having proposed to
squeeze him until he gave up all the gold he had swallowed.
Nothing, therefore, was settled that day, as Emery's head
was not steady enough for business after such an occurrence.
On the next day Mathieu Mole, the chief president, whose
courage at this crisis, says the Cardinal de Retz, was equal
to that of the Duc de Beaufort and the Prince de Conde -- in
other words, of the two men who were considered the bravest
in France -- had been attacked in his turn. The people
threatened to hold him responsible for the evils that hung
over them. But the chief president had replied with his
habitual coolness, without betraying either disturbance or
surprise, that should the agitators refuse obedience to the
king's wishes he would have gallows erected in the public
squares and proceed at once to hang the most active among
them. To which the others had responded that they would be
glad to see the gallows erected; they would serve for the
hanging of those detestable judges who purchased favor at
court at the price of the people's misery.
Nor was this all. On the eleventh the queen in going to mass
at Notre Dame, as she always did on Saturdays, was followed
by more than two hundred women demanding justice. These poor
creatures had no bad intentions. They wished only to be
allowed to fall on their knees before their sovereign, and
that they might move her to compassion; but they were
prevented by the royal guard and the queen proceeded on her
way, haughtily disdainful of their entreaties.
At length parliament was convoked; the authority of the king
was to be maintained.
One day -- it was the morning of the day my story begins --
the king, Louis XIV., then ten years of age, went in state,
under pretext of returning thanks for his recovery from the
small-pox, to Notre Dame. He took the opportunity of calling
out his guard, the Swiss troops and the musketeers, and he
had planted them round the Palais Royal, on the quays, and
on the Pont Neuf. After mass the young monarch drove to the
Parliament House, where, upon the throne, he hastily
confirmed not only such edicts as he had already passed, but
issued new ones, each one, according to Cardinal de Retz,
more ruinous than the others -- a proceeding which drew
forth a strong remonstrance from the chief president, Mole
-- whilst President Blancmesnil and Councillor Broussel
raised their voices in indignation against fresh taxes.
The king returned amidst the silence of a vast multitude to
the Palais Royal. All minds were uneasy, most were
foreboding, many of the people used threatening language.
At first, indeed, they were doubtful whether the king's
visit to the parliament had been in order to lighten or
increase their burdens; but scarcely was it known that the
taxes were to be still further increased, when cries of
"Down with Mazarin!" "Long live Broussel!" "Long live
Blancmesnil!" resounded through the city. For the people had
learned that Broussel and Blancmesnil had made speeches in
their behalf, and, although the eloquence of these deputies
had been without avail, it had none the less won for them
the people's good-will. All attempts to disperse the groups
collected in the streets, or silence their exclamations,
were in vain. Orders had just been given to the royal guards
and the Swiss guards, not only to stand firm, but to send
out patrols to the streets of Saint Denis and Saint Martin,
where the people thronged and where they were the most
vociferous, when the mayor of Paris was announced at the
Palais Royal.
He was shown in directly; he came to say that if these
offensive precautions were not discontinued, in two hours
Paris would be under arms.
Deliberations were being held when a lieutenant in the
guards, named Comminges, made his appearance, with his
clothes all torn, his face streaming with blood. The queen
on seeing him uttered a cry of surprise and asked him what
was going on.
As the mayor had foreseen, the sight of the guards had
exasperated the mob. The tocsin was sounded. Comminges had
arrested one of the ringleaders and had ordered him to be
hanged near the cross of Du Trahoir; but in attempting to
execute this command the soldiery were attacked in the
market-place with stones and halberds; the delinquent had
escaped to the Rue des Lombards and rushed into a house.
They broke open the doors and searched the dwelling, but in
vain. Comminges, wounded by a stone which had struck him on
