CHAPTER X
Oh! the joy Of young ideas, painted on the mind In the warm glowing colours fancy spreads On objects not yet known, when all is new, And all is lovely! SACRED DRAMAS
We now return to Languedoc and to the mention of Count De Villefort, thenobleman, who succeeded to an estate of the Marquis De Villeroi situatednear the monastery of St. Claire. It may be recollected, that thischateau was uninhabited, when St. Aubert and his daughter were in theneighbourhood, and that the former was much affected on discoveringhimself to be so near Chateau-le-Blanc, a place, concerning which thegood old La Voisin afterwards dropped some hints, that had alarmedEmily's curiosity.
It was in the year 1584, the beginning of that, in which St. Aubertdied, that Francis Beauveau, Count De Villefort, came into possessionof the mansion and extensive domain called Chateau-le-Blanc, situatedin the province of Languedoc, on the shore of the Mediterranean. Thisestate, which, during some centuries, had belonged to his family,now descended to him, on the decease of his relative, the Marquis DeVilleroi, who had been latterly a man of reserved manners and austerecharacter; circumstances, which, together with the duties of hisprofession, that often called him into the field, had prevented anydegree of intimacy with his cousin, the Count De Villefort. For manyyears, they had known little of each other, and the Count received thefirst intelligence of his death, which happened in a distant part ofFrance, together with the instruments, that gave him possession of thedomain Chateau-le-Blanc; but it was not till the following year, thathe determined to visit that estate, when he designed to pass the autumnthere. The scenes of Chateau-le-Blanc often came to his remembrance,heightened by the touches, which a warm imagination gives to therecollection of early pleasures; for, many years before, in thelife-time of the Marchioness, and at that age when the mind isparticularly sensible to impressions of gaiety and delight, he had oncevisited this spot, and, though he had passed a long intervening periodamidst the vexations and tumults of public affairs, which too frequentlycorrode the heart, and vitiate the taste, the shades of Languedoc andthe grandeur of its distant scenery had never been remembered by himwith indifference.
During many years, the chateau had been abandoned by the late Marquis,and, being inhabited only by an old steward and his wife, had beensuffered to fall much into decay. To superintend the repairs, that wouldbe requisite to make it a comfortable residence, had been a principalmotive with the Count for passing the autumnal months in Languedoc; andneither the remonstrances, or the tears of the Countess, for, onurgent occasions, she could weep, were powerful enough to overcome hisdetermination. She prepared, therefore, to obey the command, which shecould not conquer, and to resign the gay assemblies of Paris,--where herbeauty was generally unrivalled and won the applause, to which herwit had but feeble claim--for the twilight canopy of woods, the lonelygrandeur of mountains and the solemnity of gothic halls and of long,long galleries, which echoed only the solitary step of a domestic, orthe measured clink, that ascended from the great clock--the ancientmonitor of the hall below. From these melancholy expectations sheendeavoured to relieve her spirits by recollecting all that she had everheard, concerning the joyous vintage of the plains of Languedoc; butthere, alas! no airy forms would bound to the gay melody of Parisiandances, and a view of the rustic festivities of peasants could affordlittle pleasure to a heart, in which even the feelings of ordinarybenevolence had long since decayed under the corruptions of luxury.
The Count had a son and a daughter, the children of a former marriage,who, he designed, should accompany him to the south of France; Henri,who was in his twentieth year, was in the French service; and Blanche,who was not yet eighteen, had been hitherto confined to the convent,where she had been placed immediately on her father's secondmarriage. The present Countess, who had neither sufficient ability, orinclination, to superintend the education of her daughter-in-law, hadadvised this step, and the dread of superior beauty had since urgedher to employ every art, that might prevail on the Count to prolongthe period of Blanche's seclusion; it was, therefore, with extrememortification, that she now understood he would no longer submit on thissubject, yet it afforded her some consolation to consider, that, thoughthe Lady Blanche would emerge from her convent, the shades of thecountry would, for some time, veil her beauty from the public eye.
On the morning, which commenced the journey, the postillions stopped atthe convent, by the Count's order, to take up Blanche, whose heart beatwith delight, at the prospect of novelty and freedom now before her. Asthe time of her departure drew nigh, her impatience had increased, andthe last night, during which she counted every note of every hour, hadappeared the most tedious of any she had ever known. The morning light,at length, dawned; the matin-bell rang; she heard the nuns descendingfrom their chambers, and she started from a sleepless pillow to welcomethe day, which was to emancipate her from the severities of a cloister,and introduce her to a world, where pleasure was ever smiling, andgoodness ever blessed--where, in short, nothing but pleasure andgoodness reigned! When the bell of the great gate rang, and the soundwas followed by that of carriage wheels, she ran, with a palpitatingheart, to her lattice, and, perceiving her father's carriage in thecourt below, danced, with airy steps, along the gallery, where she wasmet by a nun with a summons from the abbess. In the next moment, she wasin the parlour, and in the presence of the Countess who now appeared toher as an angel, that was to lead her into happiness. But the emotionsof the Countess, on beholding her, were not in unison with those ofBlanche, who had never appeared so lovely as at this moment, when hercountenance, animated by the lightning smile of joy, glowed with thebeauty of happy innocence.
After conversing for a few minutes with the abbess, the Countess rose togo. This was the moment, which Blanche had anticipated with such eagerexpectation, the summit from which she looked down upon the fairy-landof happiness, and surveyed all its enchantment; was it a moment, then,for tears of regret? Yet it was so. She turned, with an altered anddejected countenance, to her young companions, who were come to bid herfarewell, and wept! Even my lady abbess, so stately and so solemn, shesaluted with a degree of sorrow, which, an hour before, she wouldhave believed it impossible to feel, and which may be accounted for byconsidering how reluctantly we all part, even with unpleasing objects,when the separation is consciously for ever. Again, she kissed the poornuns and then followed the Countess from that spot with tears, which sheexpected to leave only with smiles.
But the presence of her father and the variety of objects, on the road,soon engaged her attention, and dissipated the shade, which tenderregret had thrown upon her spirits. Inattentive to a conversation, whichwas passing between the Countess and a Mademoiselle Bearn, her friend,Blanche sat, lost in pleasing reverie, as she watched the cloudsfloating silently along the blue expanse, now veiling the sun andstretching their shadows along the distant scene, and then disclosingall his brightness. The journey continued to give Blanche inexpressibledelight, for new scenes of nature were every instant opening to herview, and her fancy became stored with gay and beautiful imagery.
It was on the evening of the seventh day, that the travellers camewithin view of Chateau-le-Blanc, the romantic beauty of whose situationstrongly impressed the imagination of Blanche, who observed, withsublime astonishment, the Pyrenean mountains, which had been seen onlyat a distance during the day, now rising within a few leagues, withtheir wild cliffs and immense precipices, which the evening clouds,floating round them, now disclosed, and again veiled. The setting rays,that tinged their snowy summits with a roseate hue, touched their lowerpoints with various colouring, while the blueish tint, that pervadedtheir shadowy recesses, gave the strength of contrast to the splendourof light. The plains of Languedoc, blushing with the purple vine anddiversified with groves of mulberry, almond and olives, spread far tothe north and the east; to the south, appeared the Mediterranean, clearas crystal, and blue as the heavens it reflected, bearing on its bosomvessels, whose white sails caught the sun-beams, and gave animationto the scene. O
n a high promontory, washed by the waters of theMediterranean, stood her father's mansion, almost secluded from theeye by woods of intermingled pine, oak and chesnut, which crowned theeminence, and sloped towards the plains, on one side; while, on theother, they extended to a considerable distance along the sea-shores.
As Blanche drew nearer, the gothic features of this antient mansionsuccessively appeared--first an embattled turret, rising above thetrees--then the broken arch of an immense gate-way, retiring beyondthem; and she almost fancied herself approaching a castle, such as isoften celebrated in early story, where the knights look out from thebattlements on some champion below, who, clothed in black armour,comes, with his companions, to rescue the fair lady of his love fromthe oppression of his rival; a sort of legends, to which she had onceor twice obtained access in the library of her convent, that, likemany others, belonging to the monks, was stored with these reliques ofromantic fiction.
The carriages stopped at a gate, which led into the domain of thechateau, but which was now fastened; and the great bell, that hadformerly served to announce the arrival of strangers, having long sincefallen from its station, a servant climbed over a ruined part of theadjoining wall, to give notice to those within of the arrival of theirlord.
As Blanche leaned from the coach window, she resigned herself to thesweet and gentle emotions, which the hour and the scenery awakened. Thesun had now left the earth, and twilight began to darken the mountains;while the distant waters, reflecting the blush that still glowed inthe west, appeared like a line of light, skirting the horizon. The lowmurmur of waves, breaking on the shore, came in the breeze, and, now andthen, the melancholy dashing of oars was feebly heard from a distance.She was suffered to indulge her pensive mood, for the thoughts of therest of the party were silently engaged upon the subjects of theirseveral interests. Meanwhile, the Countess, reflecting, with regret,upon the gay parties she had left at Paris, surveyed, with disgust, whatshe thought the gloomy woods and solitary wildness of the scene; and,shrinking from the prospect of being shut up in an old castle, wasprepared to meet every object with displeasure. The feelings of Henriwere somewhat similar to those of the Countess; he gave a mournful sighto the delights of the capital, and to the remembrance of a lady,who, he believed, had engaged his affections, and who had certainlyfascinated his imagination; but the surrounding country, and the modeof life, on which he was entering, had, for him, at least, the charm ofnovelty, and his regret was softened by the gay expectations of youth.The gates being at length unbarred, the carriage moved slowly on, underspreading chesnuts, that almost excluded the remains of day, followingwhat had been formerly a road, but which now, overgrown with luxuriantvegetation, could be traced only by the boundary, formed by trees,on either side, and which wound for near half a mile among the woods,before it reached the chateau. This was the very avenue that St.Aubert and Emily had formerly entered, on their first arrival in theneighbourhood, with the hope of finding a house, that would receivethem, for the night, and had so abruptly quitted, on perceiving thewildness of the place, and a figure, which the postillion had fanciedwas a robber.
'What a dismal place is this!' exclaimed the Countess, as the carriagepenetrated the deeper recesses of the woods. 'Surely, my lord, you donot mean to pass all the autumn in this barbarous spot! One ought tobring hither a cup of the waters of Lethe, that the remembrance ofpleasanter scenes may not heighten, at least, the natural dreariness ofthese.'
'I shall be governed by circumstances, madam,' said the Count, 'thisbarbarous spot was inhabited by my ancestors.'
The carriage now stopped at the chateau, where, at the door of the greathall, appeared the old steward and the Parisian servants, who had beensent to prepare the chateau, waiting to receive their lord. Lady Blanchenow perceived, that the edifice was not built entirely in the gothicstyle, but that it had additions of a more modern date; the large andgloomy hall, however, into which she now entered, was entirely gothic,and sumptuous tapestry, which it was now too dark to distinguish, hungupon the walls, and depictured scenes from some of the antient Provencalromances. A vast gothic window, embroidered with CLEMATIS and eglantine,that ascended to the south, led the eye, now that the casements werethrown open, through this verdant shade, over a sloping lawn, to thetops of dark woods, that hung upon the brow of the promontory. Beyond,appeared the waters of the Mediterranean, stretching far to the south,and to the east, where they were lost in the horizon; while, to thenorth-east, they were bounded by the luxuriant shores of Languedoc andProvence, enriched with wood, and gay with vines and sloping pastures;and, to the south-west, by the majestic Pyrenees, now fading from theeye, beneath the gradual gloom.
Blanche, as she crossed the hall, stopped a moment to observe thislovely prospect, which the evening twilight obscured, yet did notconceal. But she was quickly awakened from the complacent delight,which this scene had diffused upon her mind, by the Countess, who,discontented with every object around, and impatient for refreshmentand repose, hastened forward to a large parlour, whose cedar wainscot,narrow, pointed casements, and dark ceiling of carved cypress wood,gave it an aspect of peculiar gloom, which the dingy green velvet of thechairs and couches, fringed with tarnished gold, had once been designedto enliven.
While the Countess enquired for refreshment, the Count, attended byhis son, went to look over some part of the chateau, and Lady Blanchereluctantly remained to witness the discontent and ill-humour of herstep-mother.
'How long have you lived in this desolate place?' said her ladyship, tothe old house keeper, who came to pay her duty.
'Above twenty years, your ladyship, on the next feast of St. Jerome.'
'How happened it, that you have lived here so long, and almost alone,too? I understood, that the chateau had been shut up for some years?'
'Yes, madam, it was for many years after my late lord, the Count, wentto the wars; but it is above twenty years, since I and my husband cameinto his service. The place is so large, and has of late been so lonely,that we were lost in it, and, after some time, we went to live in acottage at the end of the woods, near some of the tenants, and came tolook after the chateau, every now and then. When my lord returned toFrance from the wars, he took a dislike to the place, and never cameto live here again, and so he was satisfied with our remaining at thecottage. Alas--alas! how the chateau is changed from what it once was!What delight my late lady used to take in it! I well remember when shecame here a bride, and how fine it was. Now, it has been neglected solong, and is gone into such decay! I shall never see those days again!'
The Countess appearing to be somewhat offended by the thoughtlesssimplicity, with which the old woman regretted former times, Dorotheeadded--'But the chateau will now be inhabited, and cheerful again; notall the world could tempt me to live in it alone.'
'Well, the experiment will not be made, I believe,' said the Countess,displeased that her own silence had been unable to awe the loquacity ofthis rustic old housekeeper, now spared from further attendance by theentrance of the Count, who said he had been viewing part of thechateau, and found, that it would require considerable repairs and somealterations, before it would be perfectly comfortable, as a place ofresidence. 'I am sorry to hear it, my lord,' replied the Countess. 'Andwhy sorry, madam?' 'Because the place will ill repay your trouble; andwere it even a paradise, it would be insufferable at such a distancefrom Paris.'
The Count made no reply, but walked abruptly to a window. 'There arewindows, my lord, but they neither admit entertainment, or light; theyshew only a scene of savage nature.'
'I am at a loss, madam,' said the Count, 'to conjecture what you mean bysavage nature. Do those plains, or those woods, or that fine expanse ofwater, deserve the name?'
'Those mountains certainly do, my lord,' rejoined the Countess, pointingto the Pyrenees, 'and this chateau, though not a work of rude nature,is, to my taste, at least, one of savage art.' The Count colouredhighly. 'This place, madam, was the work of my ancestors,' said he,'and you must allow me to say, that your prese
nt conversation discoversneither good taste, or good manners.' Blanche, now shocked at analtercation, which appeared to be increasing to a serious disagreement,rose to leave the room, when her mother's woman entered it; and theCountess, immediately desiring to be shewn to her own apartment,withdrew, attended by Mademoiselle Bearn.
Lady Blanche, it being not yet dark, took this opportunity of exploringnew scenes, and, leaving the parlour, she passed from the hall intoa wide gallery, whose walls were decorated by marble pilasters, whichsupported an arched roof, composed of a rich mosaic work. Through adistant window, that seemed to terminate the gallery, were seen thepurple clouds of evening and a landscape, whose features, thinly veiledin twilight, no longer appeared distinctly, but, blended into one grandmass, stretched to the horizon, coloured only with a tint of solemngrey.
The gallery terminated in a saloon, to which the window she had seenthrough an open door, belonged; but the increasing dusk permitted heronly an imperfect view of this apartment, which seemed to be magnificentand of modern architecture; though it had been either suffered to fallinto decay, or had never been properly finished. The windows, which werenumerous and large, descended low, and afforded a very extensive, andwhat Blanche's fancy represented to be, a very lovely prospect; andshe stood for some time, surveying the grey obscurity and depicturingimaginary woods and mountains, vallies and rivers, on this scene ofnight; her solemn sensations rather assisted, than interrupted, by thedistant bark of a watch-dog, and by the breeze, as it trembled upon thelight foliage of the shrubs. Now and then, appeared for a moment, amongthe woods, a cottage light; and, at length, was heard, afar off, theevening bell of a convent, dying on the air. When she withdrew herthoughts from these subjects of fanciful delight, the gloom and silenceof the saloon somewhat awed her; and, having sought the door of thegallery, and pursued, for a considerable time, a dark passage, she cameto a hall, but one totally different from that she had formerly seen.By the twilight, admitted through an open portico, she could justdistinguish this apartment to be of very light and airy architecture,and that it was paved with white marble, pillars of which supported theroof, that rose into arches built in the Moorish style. While Blanchestood on the steps of this portico, the moon rose over the sea, andgradually disclosed, in partial light, the beauties of the eminence, onwhich she stood, whence a lawn, now rude and overgrown with high grass,sloped to the woods, that, almost surrounding the chateau, extended in agrand sweep down the southern sides of the promontory to the very marginof the ocean. Beyond the woods, on the north-side, appeared a long tractof the plains of Languedoc; and, to the east, the landscape she hadbefore dimly seen, with the towers of a monastery, illumined by themoon, rising over dark groves.
The soft and shadowy tint, that overspread the scene, the waves,undulating in the moon-light, and their low and measured murmurs on thebeach, were circumstances, that united to elevate the unaccustomed mindof Blanche to enthusiasm.
'And have I lived in this glorious world so long,' said she, 'and nevertill now beheld such a prospect--never experienced these delights! Everypeasant girl, on my father's domain, has viewed from her infancy theface of nature; has ranged, at liberty, her romantic wilds, while I havebeen shut in a cloister from the view of these beautiful appearances,which were designed to enchant all eyes, and awaken all hearts. Howcan the poor nuns and friars feel the full fervour of devotion, if theynever see the sun rise, or set? Never, till this evening, did I knowwhat true devotion is; for, never before did I see the sun sink belowthe vast earth! To-morrow, for the first time in my life, I will seeit rise. O, who would live in Paris, to look upon black walls and dirtystreets, when, in the country, they might gaze on the blue heavens, andall the green earth!'
This enthusiastic soliloquy was interrupted by a rustling noise in thehall; and, while the loneliness of the place made her sensible to fear,she thought she perceived something moving between the pillars. Fora moment, she continued silently observing it, till, ashamed of herridiculous apprehensions, she recollected courage enough to demand whowas there. 'O my young lady, is it you?' said the old housekeeper, whowas come to shut the windows, 'I am glad it is you.' The manner, inwhich she spoke this, with a faint breath, rather surprised Blanche, whosaid, 'You seemed frightened, Dorothee, what is the matter?'
'No, not frightened, ma'amselle,' replied Dorothee, hesitating andtrying to appear composed, 'but I am old, and--a little matter startlesme.' The Lady Blanche smiled at the distinction. 'I am glad, that mylord the Count is come to live at the chateau, ma'amselle,' continuedDorothee, 'for it has been many a year deserted, and dreary enough; now,the place will look a little as it used to do, when my poor lady wasalive.' Blanche enquired how long it was, since the Marchioness died?'Alas! my lady,' replied Dorothee, 'so long--that I have ceased to countthe years! The place, to my mind, has mourned ever since, and I am suremy lord's vassals have! But you have lost yourself, ma'amselle,--shall Ishew you to the other side of the chateau?'
Blanche enquired how long this part of the edifice had been built. 'Soonafter my lord's marriage, ma'am,' replied Dorothee. 'The place was largeenough without this addition, for many rooms of the old building wereeven then never made use of, and my lord had a princely household too;but he thought the antient mansion gloomy, and gloomy enough it is!'Lady Blanche now desired to be shewn to the inhabited part of thechateau; and, as the passages were entirely dark, Dorothee conducted heralong the edge of the lawn to the opposite side of the edifice, where,a door opening into the great hall, she was met by Mademoiselle Bearn.'Where have you been so long?' said she, 'I had begun to think somewonderful adventure had befallen you, and that the giant of thisenchanted castle, or the ghost, which, no doubt, haunts it, had conveyedyou through a trap-door into some subterranean vault, whence you wasnever to return.'
'No,' replied Blanche, laughingly, 'you seem to love adventures so well,that I leave them for you to achieve.'
'Well, I am willing to achieve them, provided I am allowed to describethem.'
'My dear Mademoiselle Bearn,' said Henri, as he met her at the door ofthe parlour, 'no ghost of these days would be so savage as to imposesilence on you. Our ghosts are more civilized than to condemn a lady toa purgatory severer even, than their own, be it what it may.'
Mademoiselle Bearn replied only by a laugh; and, the Count now enteringthe room, supper was served, during which he spoke little, frequentlyappeared to be abstracted from the company, and more than once remarked,that the place was greatly altered, since he had last seen it. 'Manyyears have intervened since that period,' said he; 'and, though thegrand features of the scenery admit of no change, they impress me withsensations very different from those I formerly experienced.'
'Did these scenes, sir,' said Blanche, 'ever appear more lovely, thanthey do now? To me this seems hardly possible.' The Count, regarding herwith a melancholy smile, said, 'They once were as delightful to me, asthey are now to you; the landscape is not changed, but time has changedme; from my mind the illusion, which gave spirit to the colouring ofnature, is fading fast! If you live, my dear Blanche, to re-visit thisspot, at the distance of many years, you will, perhaps, remember andunderstand the feelings of your father.'
Lady Blanche, affected by these words, remained silent; she lookedforward to the period, which the Count anticipated, and considering,that he, who now spoke, would then probably be no more, her eyes, bentto the ground, were filed with tears. She gave her hand to her father,who, smiling affectionately, rose from his chair, and went to a windowto conceal his emotion.
The fatigues of the day made the party separate at an early hour,when Blanche retired through a long oak gallery to her chamber, whosespacious and lofty walls, high antiquated casements, and, what was theeffect of these, its gloomy air, did not reconcile her to its remotesituation, in this antient building. The furniture, also, was of antientdate; the bed was of blue damask, trimmed with tarnished gold lace,and its lofty tester rose in the form of a canopy, whence the curtainsdescended, like those of such tents as are sometimes
represented in oldpictures, and, indeed, much resembling those, exhibited on the fadedtapestry, with which the chamber was hung. To Blanche, every object herewas matter of curiosity; and, taking the light from her woman to examinethe tapestry, she perceived, that it represented scenes from the warsof Troy, though the almost colourless worsted now mocked the glowingactions they once had painted. She laughed at the ludicrous absurdityshe observed, till, recollecting, that the hands, which had wove it,were, like the poet, whose thoughts of fire they had attempted toexpress, long since mouldered into dust, a train of melancholy ideaspassed over her mind, and she almost wept.
Having given her woman a strict injunction to awaken her, beforesun-rise, she dismissed her; and then, to dissipate the gloom, whichreflection had cast upon her spirits, opened one of the high casements,and was again cheered by the face of living nature. The shadowy earth,the air, and ocean--all was still. Along the deep serene of the heavens,a few light clouds floated slowly, through whose skirts the stars nowseemed to tremble, and now to emerge with purer splendour. Blanche'sthoughts arose involuntarily to the Great Author of the sublime objectsshe contemplated, and she breathed a prayer of finer devotion, than anyshe had ever uttered beneath the vaulted roof of a cloister. At thiscasement, she remained till the glooms of midnight were stretched overthe prospect. She then retired to her pillow, and, 'with gay visions ofto-morrow,' to those sweet slumbers, which health and happy innocenceonly know.
To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures new.