The Wandering Jew — Volume 01 by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER XV.
THE DESPATCHES.
When we read, in the rules of the order of the Jesuits, under the titleDe formula scribendi (Institut. 2, 11, p. 125, 129), the development ofthe 8th part of the constitutions, we are appalled by the number ofletters, narratives, registers, and writings of all kinds, preserved inthe archives of the society.
It is a police infinitely more exact and better informed than has everbeen that of any state. Even the government of Venice found itselfsurpassed by the Jesuits: when it drove them out in 1606, it seized alltheir papers, and reproached them for their great and laboriouscuriosity. This police, this secret inquisition, carried to such a degreeof perfection, may give some idea of the strength of a government, sowell-informed so persevering in its projects, so powerful by its unity,and, as the constitutions have it, by the union of its members. It is nothard to understand, what immense force must belong to the heads of thissociety, and how the general of the Jesuits could say to the Duke deBrissac: "From this room, your grace, I govern not only Paris, butChina--not only China, but the whole world--and all without any oneknowing how it is done:" (Constitution of the Jesuits, edited by Paulin,Paris, 1843.)
Morok, the lion-tamer, seeing Dagobert deprived of his horse, andstripped of his money and papers, and thinking it was thus out of hispower to continue his journey, had, previous to the arrival of theburgomaster, despatched Karl to Leipsic, as the bearer of a letter whichhe was to put immediately into the post. The address of this letter wasas follows: "A Monsieur Rodin, Rue du Milieu des Ursins, Paris."
About the middle of this obscure and solitary street, situate below thelevel of the Quai Napoleon, which it joins not far from the Rue SaintLandry, there stood a house of unpretentious appearance, at the bottom ofa dark and narrow court-yard, separated from the street by a low buildingin front, with arched doorway, and two windows protected by thick ironbars. Nothing could be more simple than the interior of this quietdwelling, as was sufficiently shown by the furniture of a pretty largeroom on the ground floor. The walls of this apartment were lined with oldgray wainscot; the tiled floor was painted red, and carefully polished;curtains of white calico shaded the windows.
A sphere of about four feet in diameter, raised on a pedestal of massiveoak, stood at one end of the room, opposite to the fireplace. Upon thisglobe, which was painted on a large scale, a host of little red crossesappeared scattered over all parts of the world--from the North to theSouth, from the rising to the setting sun, from the most barbarouscountries, from the most distant isles, to the centres of civilization,to France itself. There was not a single country which did not presentsome spots marked with these red crosses, evidently indicative ofstations, or serving as points of reference.
Before a table of black wood, loaded with papers, and resting against thewall near the chimney, a chair stood empty. Further on, between the twowindows, was a large walnut-wood desk, surmounted by shelves full ofpasteboard boxes.
At the end of the month of October, 1831, about eight o'clock in themorning, a man sat writing at this desk. This was M. Rodin, thecorrespondent of Morok, the brute-tamer.
About fifty years of age, he wore an old, shabby, olive greatcoat, with agreasy collar, a snuff-powdered cotton handkerchief for a cravat, andwaistcoat and trousers of threadbare black cloth. His feet, buried inloose varnished shoes, rested on a petty piece of green baize upon thered, polished floor. His gray hair lay flat on his temples, and encircledhis bald forehead; his eyebrows were scarcely marked; his upper eyelid,flabby and overhanging, like the membrane which shades the eyes ofreptiles, half concealed his small, sharp, black eye. His thin lips,absolutely colorless, were hardly distinguishable from the wan hue of hislean visage, with its pointed nose and chin; and this livid mask(deprived as it were of lips) appeared only the more singular, from itsmaintaining a death-like immobility. Had it not been for the rapidmovement of his fingers, as, bending over the desk, he scratched alongwith his pen, M. Rodin might have been mistaken for a corpse.
By the aid of a cipher (or secret alphabet) placed before him he wascopying certain passages from a long sheet full of writing, in a mannerquite unintelligible to those who did not possess the key to the system.Whilst the darkness of the day increased the gloom of the large, cold,naked-looking apartment, there was something awful in the chilling aspectof this man, tracing his mysterious characters in the midst of profoundsilence.
The clock struck eight. The dull sound of the knocker at the outer doorwas heard, then a bell tinkled twice, several doors opened and shut, anda new personage entered the chamber. On seeing him, M. Rodin rose fromthe desk, stuck his pen between his teeth, bowed with a deeply submissiveair, and sat down again to his work without uttering a word.
The two formed a striking contrast to one another. The newcomer, thoughreally older than he seemed, would have passed for thirty-six or thirtyeight years of age at most. His figure was tall and shapely, and fewcould have encountered the brightness of his large gray eye, brilliant aspolished steel. His nose, broad at the commencement, formed a well-cutsquare at its termination; his chin was prominent, and the bluish tintsof his close-shaved beard were contrasted with the bright carnation ofhis lips, and the whiteness of his fine teeth. When he took off his hatto change it for a black velvet cap which he found on the small table, hedisplayed a quantity of light chestnut hair, not yet silvered by time. Hewas dressed in a long frock-coat, buttoned up to the neck in militaryfashion.
The piercing glance and broad forehead of this man revealed a powerfulintellect, even as the development of his chest and shoulders announced avigorous physical organization; whilst his gentlemanly appearance, theperfection of his gloves and boots, the light perfume which hung abouthis hair and person, the grace and ease of his least movements, betrayedwhat is called the man of the world, and left the impression that he hadsought or might still seek every kind of success, from the most frivolousto the most serious. This rare combination of strength of mind, strengthof body, and extreme elegance of manners, was in this instance renderedstill more striking by the circumstance, that whatever there might be ofhaughtiness or command in the upper part of that energetic countenance,was softened down, and tempered by a constant but not uniform smile--for,as occasion served, this smile became either kind or sly, cordial or gay,discreet or prepossessing, and thus augmented the insinuating charm ofthis man, who, once seen, was never again forgotten. But, in yielding tothis involuntary sympathy, the doubt occurred if the influence was forgood--or for evil.
M. Rodin, the secretary of the newcomer, continued to write.
"Are there any letters from Dunkirk, Rodin?" inquired his master.
"Post not yet in."
"Without being positively uneasy as to my mother's health, since she wasalready convalescent," resumed the other, "I shall only be quitereassured by a letter from my excellent friend, the Princess de SaintDizier. I shall have good news this morning, I hope."
"It is to be desired," said the secretary, as humble and submissive as hewas laconic and impassible.
"Certainly it is to be desired," resumed his master; "for one of thebrightest days of my life was when the Princess de Saint-Dizier announcedto me that this sudden and dangerous illness had yielded to the care andattention with which she surrounds my mother. Had it not been for that Imust have gone down to her instantly, though my presence here is verynecessary."
Then, approaching the desk, he added: "Is the summary of the foreigncorrespondence complete?"
"Here is the analysis."
"The letters are still sent under envelope to the places named, and arethen brought here as I directed?"
"Always."
"Read to me the notes of this correspondence; if there are any lettersfor me to answer, I will tell you." And Rodin's master began to walk upand down the room, with his hands crossed behind his back, dictatingobservations of which Rodin took careful note.
The secretary turned to a pretty large pile of papers, and thus began:
"Don Raymond O
"Very well; file it."
"Count Romanoff, of Riga, finds himself in a position of pecuniaryembarrassment."
"Let Duplessis send him fifty louis; I formerly served as captain in hisregiment, and he has since given us good information."
"They have received at Philadelphia the last cargo of Histories ofFrance, expurgated for the use of the faithful they require some more ofthe same sort."
"Take note of it, and write to Duplessis. Go on."
"M. Spindler sends from Namur the secret report on M. Ardouin."
"To be examined."
"M. Ardouin sends from the same town the secret report on M. Spindler."
"To be examined."
"Doctor Van Ostadt, of the same town, sends a confidential note on thesubject of Messrs. Spindler and Ardouin."
"To be compared. Go on!"
"Count Malipierri, of Turin, announces that the donation of 300,000francs is signed."
"Inform Duplessis. What next?"
"Don Stanislaus has just quitted the waters of Baden with Queen MarieErnestine. He informs us that her majesty will receive with gratitude thepromised advices, and will answer them with her own hand."
"Make a note of it. I will myself write to the queen."
Whilst Rodin was inscribing a few remarks on the margin of the paper, hismaster, continuing to walk up and down the room, found himself oppositeto the globe marked with little red crosses, and stood contemplating itfor a moment with a pensive air.
Rodin continued: "In consequence of the state of the public mind incertain parts of Italy, where sundry agitators have turned their eyes inthe direction of France, Father Arsenio writes from Milan, that it wouldbe of importance to distribute profusely in that country, some littlebook, in which the French would be represented as impious and debauched,rapacious and bloody."
"The idea is excellent. We might turn to good account the excessescommitted by our troops in Italy during the wars of the Republic. Youmust employ Jacques Dumoulin to write it. He is full of gall, spite, andvenom: the pamphlet will be scorching. Besides, I may furnish a fewnotes; but you must not pay Dumoulin till after delivery of themanuscript."
"That is well understood: for, if we were to pay him beforehand, he wouldbe drunk for a week in some low den. It was thus we had to pay him twiceover for his virulent attack on the pantheistic tendencies of ProfessorMartin's philosophy."
"Take note of it--and go on!"
"The merchant announces that the clerk is about to send the banker togive in his accounts. You understand?' added Rodin, after pronouncingthese words with a marked emphasis.
"Perfectly," said the other, with a start; "they are but the expressionsagreed on. What next?"
"But the clerk," continued the secretary, "is restrained by a lastscruple."
After a moment's silence, during which the features of Rodin's masterworked strongly, he thus resumed: "They must continue to act on theclerk's mind by silence and solitude; then, let him read once more thelist of cases in which regicide is authorized and absolved. Go on!"
"The woman Sydney writes from Dresden, that she waits for instructions.Violent scenes of jealousy on her account have again taken place betweenthe father and son; but neither from these new bursts of mutual hatred,nor from the confidential communications which each has made to heragainst his rival, has she yet been able to glean the informationrequired. Hitherto, she has avoided giving the preference to one or theother; but, should this situation be prolonged, she fears it may rousetheir suspicion. Which ought she then to choose--the father or the son?"
"The son--for jealous resentment will be much more violent and cruel inthe old man, and, to revenge himself for the preference bestowed upon hisson, he will perhaps tell what they have both such an interest toconceal. The next?"
"Within the last three years, two maid-servants of Ambrosius whom weplaced in that little parish in the mountains of the Valais, havedisappeared, without any one knowing what has become of them. A third hasjust met with the same fate. The Protestants of the country areroused--talk of murder with frightful attendant circumstances--"
"Until there is proof positive and complete of the fact, Ambrosius mustbe defended against these infamous calumnies, the work of a party thatnever shrinks from; monstrous inventions. Go on!"
"Thompson, of Liverpool, has at length succeeded in procuring for Justinthe place of agent or manager to Lord Stewart, a rich Irish Catholic,whose head grows daily weaker."
"Let the fact be once verified, and Thompson shall have a premium offifty louis. Make a note of it for Duplessis. Proceed."
"Frantz Dichstein, of Vienna," resumed Rodin, "announces that his fatherhas just died of the cholera, in a little village at some leagues fromthat city: for the epidemic continues to advance slowly, coming from thenorth of Russia by way of Poland."
"It is true," said Rodin's master, interrupting him; "may its terriblemarch be stayed, and France be spared."
"Frantz Dichstein," resumed Rodin, "says that his two brothers aredetermined to contest the donation made by his father, but that he is ofan opposite opinion."
"Consult the two persons that are charged with all matters of litigation.What next?"
"The Cardinal Prince d'Amalfi will conform to the three first points ofthe proposal: he demands to make a reservation upon the fourth point."
"No reserve!--Either full and absolute acceptance--or else war--and (markme well) war without mercy--on him and his creatures. Go on!"
"Fra Paolo announces that the Prince Boccari, chief of a redoubtablesecret society, in despair at seeing his friends accuse him of treachery,in consequence of suspicions excited in their minds by Fra Paolo himself,has committed suicide."
"Boccari! is it possible?" cried Rodin's master. "Boccari! the patriotBoccari! so dangerous a person!"
"The patriot Boccari," repeated the impassible secretary.
"Tell Duplessis to send an order for five-and-twenty louis to Fra Paolo.Make a note of it."
"Hausman informs us that the French dancer, Albertine Ducornet, is themistress of the reigning prince; she has the most complete influence overhim, and it would be easy through her means to arrive at the endproposed, but that she is herself governed by her lover (condemned inFrance as a forger), and that she does nothing without consulting him."
"Let Hausman get hold of this man--if his claims are reasonable, accede tothem--and learn if the girl has any relations in Paris."
"The Duke d'Orbano announces, that the king his master will authorize thenew establishment, but on the conditions previously stated."
"No condition!--either a frank adhesion or a positive refusal. Let usknow our friends from our enemies. The more unfavorable thecircumstances, the more we must show firmness, and overbear opposition byconfidence in ourselves."
"The same also announces, that the whole of the corps diplomatiquecontinues to support the claims of the father of that young Protestantgirl, who refuses to quit the convent where she has taken refuge, unlessit be to marry her lover against her father's will."
"Ah! the corps diplomatique continues to remonstrate in the father'sname?"
"Yes."
"Then, continue to answer, that the spiritual power has nothing to dowith the temporal."
At this moment, the bell of the outer door again sounded twice. "See whoit is," said Rodin's master; and the secretary rose and left the room.The other continued to walk thoughtfully up and down, till, coming nearto the huge globe, he stopped short before it.
For some time he contemplated, in profound silence, the innumerablelittle red crosses, which appeared to cover, as with an immense net, allthe countries of the earth. Reflecting doubtless on the invisible actionof his power, which seemed to extend over the whole world, the featuresof this man became animated, his large gray eye sparkled, his nostrilsswelled, and his manly countenance assumed an indescribable expression ofpride, energy, a
This powerful pressure, an imperious movement, as of one takingpossession, seemed to indicate, that he felt sure of governing thisglobe, on which he looked down from the height of his tall figure, and onwhich he rested his hand with so lofty and audacious an air ofsovereignty.
But now he no longer smiled. His eye threatened, and his large foreheadwas clad with a formidable scowl. The artist, who had wished to paint thedemon of craft and pride, the infernal genius of insatiable domination,could not have chosen a more suitable model.
When Rodin returned, the face of his master had recovered its ordinaryexpression. "It is the postman," said Rodin, showing the letters which heheld in his hand; "there is nothing from Dunkirk."
"Nothing?" cried his master--and his painful emotion formed a strangecontrast to his late haughty and implacable expression ofcountenance--"nothing? no news of my mother?--Thirty-six hours more,then, of anxiety."
"It seems to me, that, if the princess had bad news to give, she wouldhave written. Probably the improvement goes on."
"You are doubtless right, Rodin--but no matter--I am far from easy. If,to-morrow, the news should not be completely satisfactory, I set out forthe estate of the princess. Why would my mother pass the autumn in thatpart of the country? The environs of Dunkirk do not, I fear, agree withher."
After a few moments' silence, he added, as he continued to walk:"Well--these letters--whence are they?"
Rodin looked at the post-marks, and replied: "Out of the four there arethree relative to the great and important affairs of the medals."
"Thank heaven!--provided the news be favorable," cried his master, withan expression of uneasiness, which showed how much importance he attachedto this affair.
"One is from Charlestown, and no doubt relative to Gabriel, themissionary," answered Rodin; "this other from Batavia, and no doubtconcerns the Indian, Djalma. The third is from Leipsic, and will probablyconfirm that received yesterday, in which the lion-tamer, Morok, informedus, that, in accordance with his orders, and without his beingcompromised in any way, the daughters of General Simon would not be ableto continue their journey."
At the name of General Simon, a cloud passed over the features of Rodin'smaster.