The Launching of Roger Brook (38 page)

With May there came several changes in the Léger household.
A new apprentice at last arrived to relieve Colas of his drudgery; and Hutot left, regretted by none, to take up a position with a lawyer at Dinan. The following week Maître Léger took on a junior Latin copyist and to Roger’s great satisfaction he was promoted to the drafting of documents under Brochard with an increase of salary to eighteen
louis
per annum.

Now that he had a chance to set his wits to work, Roger found a new interest in the law, but his love affair could hardly have been in a worse state. He had not even had a distant glimpse of Athénaïs during the past two months and, as he had learned in casual conversation from Maître Léger that the de Rochambeau family always spent the summer on their country estate, he had little hope of doing so for another five.

He had already tired of Tonton Yeury’s empty, facetious laughter, and for some time past had been striving to console himself with a tall, serious-minded blonde named Louise Ferlet. When the weather was fine on Sundays they went for picnics and read poetry together; but as he lay on the grass beside Louise he could never for long escape a secret craving that, instead of her golden head, it was Athénaïs’s that rested on his shoulder.

In August their picnics came to an end on account of bad weather, accompanied by exceptionally high winds. A few days after the most devastating of several bad storms there was some excitement in Rennes, on account of the Marquis de Castries spending a night in the town on his way through to Cherbourg. De Castries was a Marshal of France and the Minister for the Navy, and he was going in person to inspect the damage that the storms had caused to some new works that were under construction at the Breton port.

From various conversations Roger learned that this fine natural harbour was in process of conversion into a huge new naval base. A mole was to be formed of eighty immense cases of conical form filled with stones, sunk close to one another, each costing twelve thousand
louis
. When completed, as it was hoped that it would be in eight years, the anchorage would be capable of sheltering no less than one hundred ships of the line; and it was further proposed to build a great watch-tower on the high ground behind the port, from which, through a glass, the coast of England would be visible, and, in clear weather, British squadrons
entering or leaving Portsmouth roads could be kept under constant observation. Quite clearly this vast labour and expenditure could have been undertaken with only one object—the determination of the French to dominate the Channel.

As Roger continued to spend two evenings a week studying with Brochard, he took an early opportunity of asking him why, in view of the recent treaty of peace and France’s deplorable financial situation, she should undertake such a stupendous outlay in preparation for another war.

The Bordelais shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘’Tis said that the King wishes for peace, yet he never ceases to build ships of war with every few
francs
that he can scrape together. The truth is that he is weak as water and swayed in his opinion from one side to the other by every person that he talks to. One day he supports M. de Vergennes, his Foreign Minister, who desires a better understanding with England, the next M. de Castries and M. de Ségur, the Minister of War, who naturally desire to set their dangerous toys in motion. The Peace of Versailles stipulated that within a year France and England should enter into a Commercial Treaty. ’Twould greatly benefit both countries by a reduction of the present crushing duties that they level on one another’s merchandise. If ’tis concluded the peace party should triumph. But the nobles, in the main, look to war as a pleasurable excitement from which they may win personal glory and the bulk of the spoil from any victorious campaign, so they are ever eager for it. Others, like our client, the Marquis de Rochambeau, consider that France should by right dominate the world, and spend their lives intriguing to embroil us with one country or another in the hope of bringing a new slice of territory under the banner of the
Fleur-de-Lys
. But, make no mistake, if they force us into another conflict within the next ten years France will become bankrupt on account of it.’

The idea of spying on behalf of his country had never entered Roger’s head, and to send home a chance come-by military secret of a people who were affording him hospitality seemed a mean thing to do; yet, having thought the matter over, he decided that the Cherbourg project was so flagrantly a pistol levelled at the very heart of England that he could not possibly rest easy while his own country remained in ignorance of it; so he wrote to his mother
giving her as full particulars as he could gather, and asked her to pass them on to his father for submission to their lordships at the Admiralty.

Although he was totally unaware of it he had pulled off a coup that any professional spy would not have stuck at murder to achieve. His mother acknowledged the letter and a week later, greatly to his surprise, he received a terse note from his father, which ran:

I cannot find it in me to forgive the unpardonable affront you put upon me personally and the deliberate wrecking of all my cherished hopes in you. Yet I am pleased that you have not so far forgotten yourself as to fail in your duty as an Englishman. Their Lordships were mightily pleased with what you sent and have commanded me to convey their thanks to you, hence this letter. I may add that any more of the same or similar that you may be able to send will be received with appreciation; but, since I may be from home on a round of inspections, ’twould be better that you write direct to one Gilbert Maxwell, Esq., of No. 1 Queen Anne’s Gate, Westminster, to whom your name has now been given
.

On re-reading the note it was clear to Roger that his father would never have written to him at all had he not been commanded to do so by their Lordships, and, as there was no other information worth reporting, that appeared to end the matter.

Summer merged into autumn and the only change that it made for Roger was that he gave up reading poetry with the fair-haired Louise to resume dancing; this time with another brunette, named Geneviève Boulanger. But now he was looking forward to Athénaïs’s return from the country and daily his hopes rose of once more catching sight of his little goddess.

In October all Europe was electrified by a war scare, caused by Marie Antoinette’s brother, the Emperor Joseph II of Austria, manifesting most bellicose intentions towards the Dutch. The news sheets were full of most contradictory reports about the grounds of the quarrel, so Roger, as usual in such matters, went for enlightenment to the knowledgeable Brochard.

‘’Tis the well-being of the great port of Antwerp that is
at the bottom of it,’ Brochard informed him. ‘Long ago, after the Dutch had rebelled against the Spaniards and gained their independence in the United Provinces, the Treaty of Munster gave them the land on each side of the mouth of the river Scheldt, while the Spaniards retained the city of Antwerp, which lies some way up it. In due course Antwerp and the Belgian Netherlands passed from Spain to Austria, and, as you know, they still form part of Joseph II’s Empire, although separated from its main part by numerous German Principalities. The Dutch built forts on both sides of the river mouth and for many years have levied the most crushing tolls on all merchandise either going up to Antwerp or coming seaward from the port. In short, they have virtually levied a tax on the whole sea trade of the Austrian Netherlands and, in consequence, Antwerp has declined from one of the greatest cities in Europe to a town of a mere forty thousand souls of whom ’tis said, twelve thousand are now reduced to living on charity.’

‘And the Emperor has formed a resolution to open up the port?’ put in Roger.

Brochard nodded. ‘Precisely. Unlike his sister, Joseph II is a great reformer. He has spent most of his reign travelling to all parts of his dominions, and in others, to see things for himself; and to find out in what way he can better the lot of the many races that go to make up his people. When he visited the Austrian Netherlands he was infuriated to find that his subjects there had become desperately impoverished solely to enrich the Dutch. He demanded that they should open the Scheldt to his traffic. Since, after a year’s arguing, they still refuse to do so, this month, as a test case, he sent two Austrian ships up the river with orders to refuse to halt at the forts. The Dutch fired on both ships, and drove them back, so the Emperor is now reported to be mobilising an army with a view to invading the United Provinces.’

‘’Tis surely unfair that one nation should be in a position to tax another out of existence,’ observed Roger. ‘So it would seem to me that the Emperor’s cause is just.’

‘One cannot but sympathise with it,’ Brochard agreed. ‘Yet as legal men we should be the last to approve the ignoring of the sanctity of a solemn treaty; and ’tis that which the Emperor asserts his right to do.’

‘’Tis a nice point: but why, if the Austrians and the
Dutch do decide to fight it out, should all Europe become involved, as the news sheets would have us believe?’

The Low Countries have ever been the scene of the greatest European conflicts, and for that there are many causes. For one thing they form a racial no-man’s-land where the Latin and Teuton stocks are mingled together. For another, the two great blocks of southern Catholic Europe and northern Protestant Europe meet head on there. Then it has always been a cardinal factor in English foreign policy that they should not be allowed to fall into the hands of any great power, since their possession by such would prove a constant menace to England’s safety. And for that same reason the war party in France has always hankered after them.’

‘Yet none of these reasons apply to the present quarrel.’

They might. Austria is a great power and the English may well decide to support the Dutch by force of arms, rather than see Joseph II master of the United Provinces. Again, our own war party is no doubt inciting the Dutch to resist in the hope of being called in to their support.’

‘But in that case France and England would be allied in a common cause against the Emperor.’

Brochard shook his head. ‘Nay. It goes deeper than that, for the Dutch are divided against themselves. The Stadt-holder, William V of Orange, has little power. The States-General, as the Dutch Parliament is called, practically ignores him and has strongly revolutionary tendencies. Yet, like all his family, he is the protégé of England and, if the English come in, ’twould be to maintain him on his throne. France, on the other hand, is behind the rich burghers who wish to establish a republic, and if she came in would use them as a cat’s-paw to secure the domination of Holland to herself.’

Long afterwards Roger was to recall this conversation with intense interest, as it made plain things of the utmost importance to him which he would not otherwise have understood.

In November he saw Athénaïs in her coach once again, and the sight of her re-aroused all the violent emotions that had lain dormant within him throughout the summer. But she still did not reappear at the Cathedral of St. Pierre.

Nevertheless, seeking among the crowd for her there on the following Sunday gave him a sudden idea, and he was
furious with himself that it had never occurred to him before. Athénaïs must go to Mass somewhere each Sunday. Why should he not wait outside the Hotel de Rochambeau until her coach came out, then run after it until it reached the church that she attended?

A week later he posted himself in the
Rue St. Louis
, a good half-hour before there was the least hope of Athénaïs appearing. When at last her coach emerged from the courtyard he slipped out from the archway in which he had been lurking and pelted hot-foot in pursuit. As he had foreseen, in the narrow streets of the town the cumbersome vehicle was unable to make any great pace, so he was easily able to keep up with it; and it had covered scarcely a quarter of a mile before it halted outside the church of St. Mélaine.

Breathless and excited he followed Athénaïs, Madame Marie-Angé, and the footman who carried their
prie-dieux
inside, and took up a position in which he could keep his eyes glued to the face of his beloved during the whole service. Except on the evening of their first meeting he had never had the opportunity of observing her for so long at a stretch, and by the end of the Celebration he felt positively intoxicated by the sense of her beauty. So bemused was he that he forgot to leave his place in time to catch her glance as she left the church, and he returned home still in a state of half-witted exultation.

He could hardly wait for next Sunday and counted the hours till it came round. This time he was waiting on the church steps for her arrival and, noticing him as she was about to enter the sacred building, she gave him a smile. Towards the close of the service he moved quietly over to the stoop, as he had often seen gentlemen in Catholic churches dip their hands in the Holy Water and offer it to ladies of their acquaintance who were about to leave, and he meant to boldly adopt this courtesy towards her.

As she approached she smiled again and, seeing his intention, withdrew her hand from her muff. Only with the greatest difficulty could he keep his hand from trembling as he dipped it in the water and extended it to her. For a second their fingers touched. Lowering her brilliant blue eyes she crossed herself and murmured, ‘
Merci, Monsieur
; then she had passed and was walking on towards the door. Again bemused with delight Roger left the church. After
nearly fourteen months of longing he had once more touched her hand and heard her voice.

Geneviève Boulanger had already gone the way of Louise Ferlet and Tonton Yeury, and he was now spending a few evenings a week with an attractive young woman named Reine Trinquet, but he determined to see no more of her. He could not bear the thought of letting any other girl even touch the hand that Athénaïs had touched. Henceforward he must keep it as sacred as though it were a part of her.

The next Sunday and the next he went through the same ritual with his adored at the church of St. Mélaine, but he was terrified that if he made any further advance he might lose the precious privilege that he had gained. At the same time, having given up the two or three evenings a week dancing to which he had become accustomed, for all his marvellous day-dreaming about Athénaïs, he found time begin to hang heavily on his hands.