Not that the drawing room needs all that to be filled. Being the source of all preferment and of every favor， it is natural that it should overflow[29]. It is the same in our leveling society (in 1875)， where the drawing room of an insignificant deputy， a mediocre journalist， or a fashionable woman， is full of courtiers under the name of friends and visitors. Moreover， here， to be present is an obligation； it might be called a continuation of ancient feudal homage； the staff of nobles is maintained as the retinue of its born general. In the language of the day， it is called "paying one's duty to the king." Absence， in the sovereign's eyes， would be a sign of independence as well as of indifference， while submission as well as regular attention is his due. In this respect we must study the institution from the beginning. The eyes of Louis XIV go their rounds at every moment， "on arising or retiring， on passing into his apartments， in his gardens， . . . nobody escapes， even those who hoped they were not seen； it was a demerit with some， and the most distinguished， not to make the court their ordinary sojourn， to others to come to it but seldom， and certain disgrace to those who never， or nearly never， came."[30] Henceforth， the main thing， for the first personages in the kingdom， men and women， ecclesiastics and laymen， the grand affair， the first duty in life， the true occupation， is to be at all hours and in every place under the king's eye， within reach of his voice and of his glance. "Whoever，" says La Bruyère， "considers that the king's countenance is the courtier's supreme felicity， that he passes his life looking on it and within sight of it， will comprehend to some extent how to see God constitutes the glory and happiness of the saints." There were at this time prodigies of voluntary assiduity and subjection. The Duc de Fronsac， every morning at seven o'clock， in winter and in summer， stationed himself， at his father's command， at the foot of the small stairway leading to the chapel， solely to shake hands with Mme. de Maintenon on her leaving for St. Cyr.[31] "Pardon me， Madame，" writes the Duc de Richelieu to her， "the great liberty I take in presuming to send you the letter which I have written to the king， begging him on my knees that he will occasionally allow me to pay my court to him at Ruel， for I would rather die than pass two months without seeing him." The true courtier follows the prince as a shadow follows its body； such， under Louis XIV， was the Duc de la Rochefoucauld， the master of the hounds. "He never missed the king's rising or retiring， both changes of dress every day， the hunts and the promenades， likewise every day， for ten years in succession， never sleeping away from the place where the king rested， and yet on a footing to demand leave， but not to stay away all night， for he had not slept out of Paris once in forty years， but to go and dine away from the court， and not be present on the promenade."- If； later， and under less exacting masters， and in the general laxity of the eighteenth century， this discipline is relaxed， the institution nevertheless subsists；[32] in default of obedience， tradition， interest and amour-propre suffice for the people of the court. To approach the king， to be a domestic in his household， an usher， a cloak-bearer， a valet， is a privilege that is purchased， even in 1789， for thirty， forty， and a hundred thousand livres； so much greater the reason why it is a privilege to form a part of his society， the most honorable， the most useful， and the most coveted of all. - In the first place， it is a proof of noble birth. A man， to follow the king in the chase， and a woman， to be presented to the queen， must previously satisfy the genealogist， and by authentic documents， that his or her nobility goes back to the year 1400. - In the next place， it ensures good fortune. This drawing room is the only place within reach of royal favors； accordingly， up to 1789， the great families never stir away from Versailles， and day and night they lie in ambush. The valet of the Marshal de Noaillles says to him one night on closing his curtains，"At what hour will Monseigneur be awakened？" "At ten o'clock， if no one dies during the night."[33]
Old courtiers are still found who， "at the age of eighty， have passed forty-five on their feet in the antechambers of the king， of the princes， and of the ministers. . .
