In
which it is proved that, notwithstanding their names’ ending in os and
is, the heroes of the story which we are about to have the honor to
relate to our readers have nothing mythological about them.
A short time ago, while making researches in the Royal Library for my History
of Louis XIV., I stumbled by chance upon the Memoirs of M. d’Artagnan,
printed—as were most of the works of that period, in which authors could
not tell the truth without the risk of a residence, more or less long, in the
Bastille—at Amsterdam, by Pierre Rouge. The title attracted me; I took
them home with me, with the permission of the guardian, and devoured them.
It is not my intention here to enter into an analysis of this curious work; and
I shall satisfy myself with referring such of my readers as appreciate the
pictures of the period to its pages. They will therein find portraits penciled
by the hand of a master; and although these squibs may be, for the most part,
traced upon the doors of barracks and the walls of cabarets, they will not find
the likenesses of Louis XIII., Anne of Austria, Richelieu, Mazarin, and the
courtiers of the period, less faithful than in the history of M. Anquetil.
But, it is well known, what strikes the capricious mind of the poet is not
always what affects the mass of readers. Now, while admiring, as others
doubtless will admire, the details we have to relate, our main preoccupation
concerned a matter to which no one before ourselves had given a thought.
D’Artagnan relates that on his first visit to M. de Tréville, captain of the
king’s Musketeers, he met in the antechamber three young men, serving in the
illustrious corps into which he was soliciting the honor of being received,
bearing the names of Athos, Porthos, and Aramis.
We must confess these three strange names struck us; and it immediately
occurred to us that they were but pseudonyms, under which D’Artagnan had
disguised names perhaps illustrious, or else that the bearers of these borrowed
names had themselves chosen them on the day in which, from caprice, discontent,
or want of fortune, they had donned the simple Musketeer’s uniform.
From that moment we had no rest till we could find some trace in contemporary
works of these extraordinary names which had so strongly awakened our
curiosity.
The catalogue alone of the books we read with this object would fill a whole
chapter, which, although it might be very instructive, would certainly afford
our readers but little amusement. It will suffice, then, to tell them that at
the moment at which, discouraged by so many fruitless investigations, we were
about to abandon our search, we at length found, guided by the counsels of our
illustrious friend Paulin Paris, a manuscript in folio, endorsed 4772 or 4773,
we do not recollect which, having for title, “Memoirs of the Comte de la Fère,
Touching Some Events Which Passed in France Toward the End of the Reign of King
Louis XIII. and the Commencement of the Reign of King Louis XIV.”
It may be easily imagined how great was our joy when, in turning over this
manuscript, our last hope, we found at the twentieth page the name of Athos, at
the twenty-seventh the name of Porthos, and at the thirty-first the name of
Aramis.
The discovery of a completely unknown manuscript at a period in which
historical science is carried to such a high degree appeared almost miraculous.
We hastened, therefore, to obtain permission to print it, with the view of
presenting ourselves someday with the pack of others at the doors of the
Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, if we should not succeed—a
very probable thing, by the by—in gaining admission to the Académie
Française with our own proper pack. This permission, we feel bound to say, was
graciously granted; which compels us here to give a public contradiction to the
slanderers who pretend that we live under a government but moderately indulgent
to men of letters.
Now, this is the first part of this precious manuscript which we offer to our
readers, restoring it to the title which belongs to it, and entering into an
engagement that if (of which we have no doubt) this first part should obtain
the success it merits, we will publish the second immediately.
In the meanwhile, as the godfather is a second father, we beg the reader to lay
to our account, and not to that of the Comte de la Fère, the pleasure or the
ennui he may experience.
This being understood, let us proceed with our history.
