Chapter 3 - Page 2

Parisians rejoiced in hacking into so many pieces with the human flesh it covered. Notwithstanding the favor Concino Concini had shown Percerin, the King Louis XIII had the generosity to bear no malice to his tailor and to retain him in his service. At the time when Louis the Just afforded this great example of equity, Percerin had brought up two sons, one of whom made his debut at the marriage of Anne of Austria, invented that admirable Spanish costume in which Richelieu danced a saraband, made the costumes for the tragedy of “Mirame,” and stitched on to Buckingham’s mantle those famous pearls which were destined to be scattered on the floors of the Louvre. A man becomes easily illustrious who has made the dresses of M. de Buckingham, M. de Cinq-Mars, Mademoiselle Ninon, M. de Beaufort, and Marion de Lorme. And thus Percerin III had attained the summit of his glory when his father died.

This same Percerin III, old, famous, and wealthy, yet further dressed Louis XIV; and having no son, which was a great cause of sorrow to him, seeing that with himself his dynasty would end, he had brought up several hopeful pupils. He possessed a carriage, a country-house, lackeys the tallest in Paris; and by special authority from Louis XIV, a pack of hounds. He worked for Messieurs de Lyonne and Letellier, under a sort of patronage; but, politic man as he was, and versed in State secrets, he never succeeded in fitting M. Colbert. This is beyond explanation; it is a matter for intuition. Great geniuses of every kind live upon unseen, intangible ideas; they act without themselves knowing why. The great Percerin (for, contrary to the rule of dynasties, it was, above all, the last of the Percerins who deserved the name of Great),- the great Percerin was inspired when he cut a robe for the Queen or a coat for the King; he could invent a mantle for Monsieur, a clock for Madame’s stocking; but in spite of his supreme genius, he could never hit the measure of M. Colbert. “That man,” he used often to say, “is beyond my art; my needle never can hit him off.” We need scarcely say that Percerin was M. Fouquet’s tailor, and that the superintendent highly esteemed him.

M. Percerin was nearly eighty years old,- nevertheless, still fresh, and at the same time so dry, the courtiers used to say, that he was positively brittle. His renown and his fortune were great enough for Monsieur the Prince, that king of fops, to take his arm when talking over the fashions; and for those least eager to pay never to dare to leave their accounts in arrear with him,- for M. Percerin would for the first time make clothes upon credit, but the second never, unless paid for the former order.

It is easy to see that a tailor of such standing, instead of running after customers, would make difficulties about receiving new ones. And so Percerin declined to fit bourgeois, or those who had but recently