Mademoiselle Mars had a very large room—the same that Mademoiselle Rachel now has. At the end of each performance the room was always filled with people. Mademoiselle Mars did not trouble herself in the least about her visitors being present; she would undress and take off her paint and rouge with a modest dexterity quite remarkable: she had in particular a way of changing her chemise while talking, without showing anything of her person beyond her finger tips, that was a tour de force. When her toilet was complete, those who wished to accompany her home went with her and found a supper ready. The regular attenders at these suppers were Vatout, Romieu, Denniée, Becquet and myself, among men, and Julienne, her lady-companion—a character—the beautiful Amigo, the fair Madame Mira, and sometimes an old lady named Fusil.
Mornay called every evening to conduct Mademoiselle Mars to the theatre, or saw her safely home.
My readers are acquainted with Romieu; I introduced him in company with his friend Rousseau. So as I have nothing fresh to tell about him, I will pass him over.
But I have hardly as yet described Vatout; Madame Valmore took him off well when she dubbed him a "butterfly in top-boots." Vatout was full of small defects and great qualities. He would superciliously hold out a finger to you if you offered to shake hands with him, and he put on the airs of a grand seigneur without ever succeeding in being mistaken for a grand seigneur. He had a good heart in spite of his uppish manners; and a charming mind behind his awkward appearance. He had a way of saying certain things that did not sit at all well on him. One of his monstrous affectations was to try and resemble the Duc D'Orléans; I have even been assured that, in confidence, he let people draw conclusions about this resemblance. The Duc d'Orléans was very fond of him and, when king, maintained his friendship with him. At the Cour Citoyenne they quoted his quips and sang his chansons. There was one in particular about the Mayor of Eu, which became the rage. Will our modest readers allow us to insert it here? for, to our way of thinking, it constituted his worthiest claim to the Académie. Do not let us do injustice to poor Vatout.
LE MAIRE D'EU
AIR—à faire
"L'ambition, c'est des bêtises;
Ça vous rend triste et soucieux;
Mais, dans le vieux manoir des Guises.
Qui ne serait ambitieux?...
Tourmenté du besoin de faire
Quelque chose dans ce beau lieu,
J'ai brigué l'honneur d'être maire,
Et l'on m'a nommé maire d'Eu!
Notre origine n'est pas claire ...
Rollon nous gouverna jadis;
Mais César fut-il notre père,
Où descendons-nous, de Smerdis?
Dans l'embarras de ma pensée,
Un mot peut tout concilier:
Nous sommes issus de Persée;
Voyez plutôt mon mobilier!
Je ne suis pas fort à mon aise:
Ma mairie est un petit coin,
Et mon trône une simple chaise
Qui me sert en cas de besoin;
Mes habits ne sentent pas l'ambre:
Mon équipage brille peu;
Mais que m'importe! un pot de chambre
Suffit bien pour un maire d'Eu!
On vante partout ma police;
Ce qu'on fait ne m'échappe pas.
A tous je rends bonne justice;
J'observe avec soin tous, les cas.
On ne peut ni manger ni boire
Sans que tout passe sous mes yeux;
Mais c'est surtout les jours de foire
Qu'on me voit souvent sur les lieux.
Grâce aux roses que l'on recueille
Dans mon laborieux emploi,
Je préfère mon portefeuille
A celui des agents du roi.
Je brave les ordres sinistres
Qui brise leur pouvoir tout net;
Et, plus puissant que les ministres,
J'entre, en tout temps, au cabinet.
Je me complais dans mon empire;
Il ne me cause aucun souci;
Moi, j'aime l'air que l'on y respire;
On voit, on sent la mer d'ici!
Partout l'aisance et le bien-être;
Ma vie est un bouquet de fleurs..
Aussi j'aime beaucoup mieux être
Maire d'Eu que maire d'ailleurs!
Beau château bâti par les Guises,
Mer d'azur baignant le Tréport,
Lieux où Lauzun fit des bêtises,
Je suis à vous jusqu'à la mort;
Je veux, sous l'écharpe française,
Mourir en sénateur romain,
Calme et tranquille sur ma chaise
Tenant mes papiers à la main!'
Vatout was also the author of the famous mot said to an official who, accompanying the king down a by-street which the latter was determined to penetrate, made excuses at each step for the obstructions they encountered. Many hens had laid there, of the type of which Henri IV. had remarked, "Stop, stop, mother! I much prefer to see the hen than the egg!"
"Oh, sire," said the poor fellow,—"oh, sire, had I only known your Majesty intended passing this way, I would have had them all cleared away."
"You would not have had the right to do that, M. le maire," Vatout gravely remarked; "they have their papers!"