CHAPTER VI. BEAUMANOIR.
They rode on in silence. A little beyond the village of Charlebourgthey suddenly turned into the forest of Beaumanoir, where a well-beatentrack, practicable both for carriages and horses, gave indications thatthe resort of visitors to the Chateau was neither small nor seldom.
The sun's rays scarcely penetrated the sea of verdure overhead. Theground was thickly strewn with leaves, the memorials of past summers;and the dark green pines breathed out a resinous odor, fresh andinvigorating to the passing rider.
Colonel Philibert, while his thoughts were for the most part fixed onthe public dangers which led to this hasty visit of his to the Chateauof Beaumanoir, had still an eye for the beauty of the forest, and not asquirrel leaping, nor a bird fluttering among the branches, escaped hisnotice as he passed by. Still he rode on rapidly, and having got fairlyinto the road, soon outstripped his guide.
"A crooked road this to Beaumanoir," remarked he at length, drawingbridle to allow Master Pothier to rejoin him. "It is as mazy as the law.I am fortunate, I am sure, in having a sharp notary like you to conductme through it."
"Conduct you! Your Honor is leading me! But the road to Beaumanoir is asintricate as the best case ever drawn up by an itinerant notary."
"You seldom ride, Master Pothier?" said Philibert, observing his guidejolting with an audible grunt at every step of his awkward nag.
"Ride, your Honor! N--no! Dame Bedard shall call me plaisant Robinif she ever tempts me again to mount her livery horse--'if fools onlycarried cruppers!' as Panurge says."
"Why, Master Pothier?" Philibert began to be amused at his odd guide.
"Why? Then I should be able to walk to-morrow--that is all! This nagwill finish me. Hunc! hanc! hoc! He is fit to be Satan's tutor at theseminary! Hoc! hanc! hunc! I have not declined my pronouns since I leftmy accidence at the High School of Tours--not till to-day. Hunc! hanc!hoc! I shall be jolted to jelly! Hunc! hanc! hoc!"
Philibert laughed at the classical reminiscences of his guide; but,fearing that Pothier might fall off his horse, which he straddled likea hay-fork, he stopped to allow the worthy notary to recover his breathand temper.
"I hope the world appreciates your learning and talent, and that it usesyou more gently than that horse of yours," remarked he.
"Oh, your Honor! it is kind of you to rein up by the way. I find nofault with the world if it find none with me. My philosophy is this,that the world is as men make it."
"As the old saying is,--
"'To lend, or to spend, or to give in, 'Tis a very good world that we live in; But to borrow, or beg, or get a man's own, 'Tis the very worst world that ever was known.'
And you consider yourself in the latter category, Master Pothier?"Philibert spoke doubtingly, for a more self-complacent face than hiscompanion's he never saw--every wrinkle trembled with mirth; eyes,cheeks, chin, and brows surrounded that jolly red nose of his like agroup of gay boys round a bonfire.
"Oh, I am content, your Honor! We notaries are privileged to wear furredcloaks in the Palais de Justice, and black robes in the country when wecan get them! Look here at my robe of dignity!" He held up the tatteredtail of his gown with a ludicrous air. "The profession of notary ismeat, drink, and lodging: every man's house is free to me--his bed andboard I share, and there is neither wedding, christening, nor funeral,in ten parishes that can go on without me. Governors and intendantsflourish and fall, but Jean Pothier dit Robin, the itinerant notary,lives merrily: men may do without bread, but they will not live withoutlaw--at least, in this noble, litigious New France of ours."
"Your profession seems quite indispensable, then!" remarked Philibert.
"Indispensable! I should think so! Without proper actes the world wouldsoon come to an end, as did Adam's happiness in Eden, for want of anotary."
"A notary, Master Pothier?"
"Yes, your Honor. It is clear that Adam lost his first estate de usis etfructibus in the Garden of Eden, simply because there was no notary todraw up for him an indefeasable lease. Why, he had not even a bail achaptal (a chattel mortgage) over the beasts he had himself named!"
"Ah!" replied Philibert, smiling, "I thought Adam lost his estatethrough a cunning notary who persuaded his wife to break the lease heheld; and poor Adam lost possession because he could not find a secondnotary to defend his title."
"Hum! that might be; but judgment went by default, as I have read.It would be different now; there are notaries, in New France and Old,capable of beating Lucifer himself in a process for either soul, body,or estate! But, thank fortune, we are out of this thick forest now."
The travellers had reached the other verge of the forest of Beaumanoir.A broad plain dotted with clumps of fair trees lay spread out in a royaldomain, overlooked by a steep, wooded mountain. A silvery brook crossedby a rustic bridge ran through the park. In the centre was a hugecluster of gardens and patriarchal trees, out of the midst of which rosethe steep roof, chimneys, and gilded vanes, flashing in the sun, of theChateau of Beaumanoir.
The Chateau was a long, heavy structure of stone, gabled and pointedin the style of the preceding century--strong enough for defence, andelegant enough for the abode of the Royal Intendant of New France. Ithad been built, some four-score years previously, by the Intendant JeanTalon, as a quiet retreat when tired with the importunities of friendsor the persecution of enemies, or disgusted with the cold indifferenceof the Court to his statesmanlike plans for the colonization of NewFrance.
A short distance from the Chateau rose a tower of roughmasonry--crenellated on top, and loopholed on the sides--which had beenbuilt as a place of defence and refuge during the Indian wars of thepreceding century. Often had the prowling bands of Iroquois turned awaybaffled and dismayed at the sight of the little fortalice surmountedby a culverin or two, which used to give the alarm of invasion to thecolonists on the slopes of Bourg Royal, and to the dwellers along thewild banks of the Montmorency.
The tower was now disused and partly dilapidated, but many wonderfultales existed among the neighboring habitans of a secret passage thatcommunicated with the vaults of the Chateau; but no one had ever seenthe passage--still less been bold enough to explore it had they foundit, for it was guarded by a loup-garou that was the terror of children,old and young, as they crowded close together round the blazing fireon winter nights, and repeated old legends of Brittany and Normandy,altered to fit the wild scenes of the New World.
Colonel Philibert and Master Pothier rode up the broad avenue that ledto the Chateau, and halted at the main gate--set in a lofty hedgeof evergreens cut into fantastic shapes, after the fashion of theLuxembourg. Within the gate a vast and glowing garden was seen--allsquares, circles, and polygons. The beds were laden with flowersshedding delicious odors on the morning air as it floated by, while theear was soothed by the hum of bees and the songs of birds revelling inthe bright sunshine.
Above the hedge appeared the tops of heavily-laden fruit-trees broughtfrom France and planted by Talon--cherries red as the lips of Bretonmaidens, plums of Gascony, Norman apples, with pears from the gloriousvalleys of the Rhone. The bending branches were just transmuting theirgreen unripeness into scarlet, gold, and purple--the imperial colors ofNature when crowned for the festival of autumn.
A lofty dove-cote, surmounted by a glittering vane, turning and flashingwith every shift of the wind, stood near the Chateau. It was the home ofa whole colony of snow-white pigeons, which fluttered in and out of it,wheeled in circles round the tall chimney-stacks, or strutted, cooingand bowing together, on the high roof of the Chateau, a picture ofinnocence and happiness.
But neither happiness nor innocence was suggested by the look of theChateau itself, as it stood bathed in bright sunshine. Its great doorswere close-shut in the face of all the beauty of the world without.Its mullioned windows, that should have stood wide open to let in theradiance and freshness of morning, were closely blinded, like eyeswickedly shut against God's light that beat upon them, vainly seekingentrance.
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Outside all was still: the song of birds and the rustle of leaves alonemet the ear. Neither man nor beast was stirring to challenge ColonelPhilibert's approach, but long ere he reached the door of the Chateau,a din of voices within, a wild medley of shouts, song, and laughter,a clatter of wine-cups, and pealing notes of violins struck him withamazement and disgust. He distinguished drunken voices singing snatchesof bacchanalian songs, while now and then stentorian mouths called forfresh brimmers, and new toasts were drunk with uproarious applause.
The Chateau seemed a very pandemonium of riot and revelry, thatprolonged the night into the day, and defied the very order of nature byits audacious disregard of all decency of time, place, and circumstance.
"In God's name, what means all this, Master Pothier?" exclaimedPhilibert, as they hastily dismounted and, tying their horses to a tree,entered the broad walk that led to the terrace.
"That concert going on, your Honor?"--Master Pothier shook his headto express disapproval, and smiled to express his inborn sympathy withfeasting and good-fellowship--"that, your Honor, is the heel of thehunt, the hanging up of the antlers of the stag by the gay chasseurs whoare visiting the Intendant!"
"A hunting party, you mean? To think that men could stand suchbrutishness, even to please the Intendant!"
"Stand! your Honor. I wager my gown that most of the chasseurs are lyingunder the table by this time, although by the noise they make it must beallowed there are some burly fellows upon their legs yet, who keep thewine flowing like the cow of Montmorency."
"'Tis horrible! 'tis damnable!" Philibert grew pale with passionand struck his thigh with his palm, as was his wont when very angry."Rioting in drunkenness when the Colony demands the cool head, thestrong arm, and the true heart of every man among us! Oh, my country! mydear country! what fate is thine to expect when men like these are thyrulers?"
"Your Honor must be a stranger in New France or you would not expresssuch hasty, honest sentiments upon the Intendant's hospitality. It isnot the fashion, except among plain-spoken habitans, who alwaystalk downright Norman." Master Pothier looked approvingly at ColonelPhilibert, who, listening with indignant ears, scarcely heeded hisguide.
"That is a jolly song, your Honor," continued Pothier, waving one handin cadence to a ditty in praise of wine, which a loud voice was heardsinging in the Chateau, accompanied by a rousing chorus which startledthe very pigeons on the roof and chimney-stacks. Colonel Philibertrecognized the song as one he had heard in the Quartier Latin, duringhis student life in Paris--he fancied he recognized the voice also:
"'Pour des vins de prix Vendons tous nos livres! C'est pen d'etre gris, Amis, soyons ivres! Bon. La Faridondaine! Gai. La Faridonde!'"
A roar of voices and a clash of glasses followed the refrain. MasterPothier's eyes winked and blinked in sympathy. The old notary stoodon tiptoe, with outspread palms, as with ore rotundo he threw in a fewnotes of his own to fill up the chorus.
Philibert cast upon his guide a look of scorn, biting his lip angrily."Go," said he, "knock at the door--it needs God's thunder to break inupon that infamous orgie. Say that Colonel Philibert brings orders fromHis Excellency the Governor to the Chevalier Intendant."
"And be served with a writ of ejectment! Pardon me! Be not angry, sir,"pleaded Pothier supplicatingly, "I dare not knock at the door when theyare at the devil's mass inside. The valets! I know them all! They wouldduck me in the brook, or drag me into the hall to make sport for thePhilistines. And I am not much of a Samson, your Honor. I could not pullthe Chateau down upon their heads--I wish I could!"
Master Pothier's fears did not appear ill-grounded to Philibert as afresh burst of drunken uproar assailed his ears. "Wait my return," saidhe, "I will knock on the door myself." He left his guide, ran up thebroad stone steps, and knocked loudly upon the door again and again! Hetried it at last, and to his surprise found it unlatched; he pushed itopen, no servitor appearing to admit him. Colonel Philibert went boldlyin. A blaze of light almost dazzled his eyes. The Chateau was lit upwith lamps and candelabra in every part. The bright rays of the sun beatin vain for admittance upon the closed doors and blinded windows,but the splendor of midnight oil pervaded the interior of the statelymansion, making an artificial night that prolonged the wild orgies ofthe Intendant into the hours of day.