of spectators, the streets became congested with carriages and many people died, crushed and trampled. Monsieur de Sartine, who’s always sending for files from the archives, must have read about this and drawn the obvious conclusions.’
‘Of course! So what’s the problem?’
‘The problem is that nobody is prepared to take drastic action.’
The carriage swerved to avoid an old man who was singing, hopping on one foot and accompanying himself on a bird-organ. He was surrounded by a small crowd, who took up the refrain:
We shall give subjects to France
And you will give them kings
Someone in the crowd whistled, and a brawl broke out. Nicolas was about to intervene, but the culprit had already fled.
‘My deputy, Bourdeau, often says Parisians are capable of the best and the worst, and when their patience … Anyway, His Majesty decided to ignore Monsieur de Sartine.’
‘The King is getting old and so are we. La Pompadour used to watch over him. I don’t know if the new concubine is so thoughtful. He’s in decline, and that’s a fact. Last year, when he reviewed the French Guard, everyone was struck by how changed he was, bent over his horse – he used to be so upright. In February, he had a bad fall while hunting. These are difficult times. But how to account for such a strange decision?’
‘He was anxious for the wedding celebrations to pass off without incident. There are too many sinister omens hanging over this marriage. Have you heard about the horoscope by the Tyrolean astrologer, Dr Gassner?’
‘You know I’m a philosopher. Why should I concern myself with such nonsense?’
‘He cast the Dauphine’s horoscope when she was born, predicting a terrible end for her. And there have been some curious incidents. Our mutual friend Monsieur de la Borde, First Groom of the King’s Bedchamber, told me that the pavilion in Kehl intended to welcome the princess was decorated with a Gobelins tapestry depicting the bloody wedding of Jason and Creusa.’
‘A remarkably tactless thing to do, to say the least. A deceived woman who takes her revenge, Creusa burned to death by a magic tunic, and Jason’s two children with their throats cut.’
‘Well, Sartine was hoping – since it is his prerogative – to have control over the Parisian part of the celebrations. But Bignon had already engineered it so that the responsibility fell to him. The King didn’t want to antagonise the magistrates of a city he hates and which feels the same way about him.’
‘All the same, Nicolas, we shouldn’t judge the city authorities too harshly before seeing them in action.’
‘I admire your confidence. Provost Bignon, whose motto is Ibi non rem,1 has a reputation for being incompetent, vain and stubborn. Monsieur de Sartine told me that when he was appointed the King’s librarian, his uncle, Monsieur d’Argenson, is supposed to have said, ‘What an excellent opportunity, nephew, now you can learn to read.’ The fact that he’s now a member of the Academy has of course only added to his conceit. But that’s nothing compared with how little thought has gone into the preparations for these festivities.’
‘That’s as may be. But are things so bad that you must get into this terrible state?’
‘Judge for yourself. Firstly, these gentlemen of the city haven’t taken any security measures. The whole thing is potentially like a rush of blood to the heart of the capital. Nobody’s even thought about how the carriages are going to gain access, whereas for the least performance at the Opéra, we carefully regulate the traffic on the approach roads. Remember when the new auditorium was inaugurated? We were there together. Remember all the measures we took to avoid congestion and disorder? The French Guards stationed all the way from Pont Royal to Pont Neuf? Traffic flowed easily all the way up to the immediate vicinity of the building. We had thought it all through, down to the smallest detail.’
Semacgus smiled at this royal ‘we’, encompassing both the Lieutenant of Police and his faithful deputy.
‘And secondly?’
‘Secondly, the architect given the task of building the structure for the fireworks didn’t even bother to level the area, which was a building site not so long ago. In places, there are still trenches in the ground, and that’s very worrying. The crowd could easily fall in. Thirdly, no provision has been made for allowing the distinguished guests – the ambassadors, the aldermen, the city authorities – to gain access. How will they get through this flood of people? And lastly, in defiance of custom, the provost has refused to grant a general bonus of a thousand crowns to the French Guards. So the streets are left to the City Guards, whose one concern over the past few days has been to show off the spruce new uniforms they’ve been given for the occasion by the municipality.’
‘Come now, don’t get so worked up. It may not turn out as badly as you think. The people will probably end the evening making merry on the victuals and wine provided by the provost.’
‘Alas, no! That’s another thing. According to my sources, the city authorities, in their anxiety to put on a firework display even more lavish than the King’s at Versailles, first tried to skimp on the food and drink and finally decided to do away with it altogether.’
‘No food and drink for the people! How stupid can they be?’
‘Instead, there’s to be a fair on the boulevards, but the stallholders have had to pay dearly for their pitches in order to meet some of the cost of the fireworks. You know how expensive such displays are. In short, the omens are not good. What annoys me is that I’m powerless to do anything. I’m here to report on what I see, nothing more.’
‘What on earth is the provost for, anyway?’
‘Not very much. Ever since His Majesty’s grandfather created the post of Lieutenant of Police, he has lost most of his prerogatives. He has a few trifles left, above all managing city property and taking out loans. He also cuts a decorative figure at ceremonies, with his red satin robe, his split gown – half red, half tan – and matching hat.’
‘I see!’ Semacgus said. ‘He’s like one of those pins or nails that are considered absolutely essential for holding together the parts of a building, but which in themselves are probably worth precisely nothing.’
Nicolas laughed heartily at this jibe. A long silence ensued, during which the noise of the carriages, the cries of the coachmen and the shuffling of the advancing crowd filled the carriage like the sound of rising waves in a storm at sea.
‘You haven’t said anything about the past two weeks, Nicolas. Nor have you told me what impression our future queen made on you.’
‘I accompanied His Majesty to Pont de Berne, in the forest of Compiègne, to greet the Dauphine.’ He lifted his head somewhat boastfully. ‘I rode beside the royal coach, and even received an amused smile from the princess when my horse reared and I almost fell. The King cried, “Steady, Ranreuil, steady!” as if we were out hunting.’
Semacgus smiled at his friend’s youthful enthusiasm. ‘Hard to find anyone more in favour than you!’
‘On the evening of the wedding, there was gambling in the King’s apartments, and
