Paris: The Novel

submit.
    So far, however, these advantages hadn’t produced any results.
    Robert’s first prospect had been a tax farmer. The system of farming might not be popular, but it worked quite well. Instead of maintaining a huge network of officials, who might be corrupt anyway, the royal administration subcontracted the whole business to independent operators. The tax farmers guaranteed a given income to the crown, and anything more they could extract from the people, they kept. The king knew what he would receive, the tax farmers got rich, and of course, if the people were discontented, they blamed the tax farmers first, before they blamed the king.
    So when Robert had found a tax farmer with a marriageable daughter, he’d gone to work. The deal was simple enough. The girl would get the benefit of social status, and with her father’s financial backing, her noble husband might make a great career. Everybody benefited. Robert had a charming miniature of Alain, which was quite true to life. The girl and her parents had seen the picture and liked it. He was on the point of summoning Alain to Paris when the tax farmer had regretfully informed him that he had a better offer. These things happened, but it was a blow.
    Then he’d got an introduction to the great Sully himself.
    Maximilien de Béthune belonged to one of the oldest families in Europe. With branches in France, England and especially Scotland, where their name was often spelled as Beaton, every generation seemed to produce men of talent. Created Duke of Sully for his services, the soldier administrator was the king’s right-hand man, and already he had transformed the country’s finances from loss to profit.
    When Robert was ushered into his presence, he found a man well into middle age, with thinning gray hair and a somewhat domelike head, from which a pair of shrewd gray eyes looked out at him with a hint of amusement.
    “So Monsieur de Cygne,” he remarked with a smile, “you have notcome to ask for something for yourself, but you want me to help your brother. Very commendable. Has he a particular skill?”
    “His talents are general, monsieur.”
    “I’m sure they are. Does he by any chance have knowledge of the linen business, or perhaps glassmaking, or silk weaving?”
    “No, monsieur.”
    “I didn’t expect it, but one never knows. More important by far however, has he knowledge and experience in building bridges or roads?”
    “Not as yet. But I’m sure he could learn.”
    “I dare say. But I need men with experience.”
    There was a brief silence.
    “I was hoping,” Robert ventured, “that something might be found for him. Our family has always—”
    “My dear Monsieur de Cygne,” the great man gently interrupted him. “Your family is known to me. If I had something to offer, I assure you, I should oblige you at once.” He paused and gazed at Robert kindly. “Do you know how to govern France?”
    “Well …” Robert was stumped. It was not a question he had been expecting.
    “Very few people do. The answer, however, is wonderfully simple. It is to do as little as possible.” Seeing Robert’s look of stupefaction, he raised his hand. “You are thinking that the king and I are busy, and we are. Allow me to explain. You see, the rulers of France usually spend their time destroying the country. They engage in wars. The trouble of recent decades has made a terrible mess of the countryside, and that is why I need men to build roads and bridges. Kings also have a deplorable habit of extravagant building, and of giving away money to all their friends. The present king is no better than the rest.” He smiled again. “Don’t worry, I tell him so to his face every day. But here is the point, Monsieur de Cygne: despite the attempts of every generation to ruin France, they cannot do it. The land is so large and so rich. The endless wheat fields that stretch from Chartres to Germany, the orchards and cattle farms of Normandy, the wines of Burgundy … the list goes on forever. Leave it alone for a year or two and the land recovers itself.
    “All I have done, therefore, is to stick to the essentials, employ only people who are useful, build what is needed, and if possible, stay out of unnecessary wars—for as a soldier I know that war is ruinous—and if Ido that, then the wealth of France will flow like a great river. That is why we now have a surplus in the treasury. And it is why I cannot create an unnecessary position for your