AFTER a long day's journey, I descended the last of the
Canigou mountains, and although it was now past sunset, I distinguished
in the plain beneath me the houses of the little village of Ille,
toward which I was now directing my course.
'You know,' said I to the Catalonian who acted as my guide, 'you know,
I dare say, where Monsieur Peyrade lives?'
'Do I know?' exclaimed he, 'I know his house as well as I do my own;
and if it was not so dark, I could point it out to you now. It is the
handsomest in Ille. Ah! he has got the money, Monsieur Peyrade has; and
he is going to marry his son to one richer than himself.'
'Indeed! and will this marriage take place soon?' asked I.
'Soon! I'll be sworn the fiddles are already engaged for the wedding.
It may be to-night, to-morrow, or the day after, for aught that I know.
It will take place at Puygarey, for it is Mam'selle de Puygarey, whom
young master is going to marry. Ah! there will be fine doings, I can
tell you!'
I had a letter of introduction to Monsieur Peyrade from my friend
Monsieur de P----. 'This gentleman,' said he to me, 'is a very
learned antiquary, extremely hospitable, and will take great pleasure
in showing you all the ruins and relics of art for a dozen leagues
around.' I had consequently counted upon him, to visit with me the
environs of Ille, which I knew to be rich in ancient monuments, as well
as those of the middle ages. This wedding, therefore, of which I now
heard for the first time, seemed likely to interfere with my plans.
'I shall be an intruder,' said I to myself; 'but as my visit has been
already announced by Monsieur de P----, it will be necessary for me to
present myself.'
'Monsieur,' said my guide to me, as we reached the plain, 'I will wager
a cigar I can guess what you are going to do at Monsieur Peyrade's.'
'Indeed,' said I, handing him a cigar, 'that will not be so very
difficult to guess. At this time of night, when one has travelled six
leagues in the Canigou mountains, the principal business I think will
be supper.'
'Oh yes, but I mean to-morrow. Come now, I will bet that you have come
to Ille to see the idol. I guessed as much when I saw you drawing the
likenesses of the saints of Serrabona.'
'The idol! what idol?' the word had excited my curiosity.
'How! have you not heard at Perpignan, that Monsieur Peyrade has found
an idol buried in the ground?'
'You mean a statue of terra-cotta, or clay?'
'No, no, of copper, real copper, and there is enough of it to make
heaps of sous. She will weigh as much as the big bell of a church. We
found her buried deep in the ground, at the foot of an olive tree.'
'You were then present at the discovery?'
'Yes Sir; Monsieur Peyrade told us--that is Jean Coll and me, about
a fortnight ago--to root up an old olive tree, which had been frozen
last year, for the weather you know was very cold. So you see as we
were at work, Jean Coll, who went at it with all his might, gave a blow
with his pickaxe, and I heard a _bimm_, as if he had struck on a bell.
What's that? said I. We dug away, and dug away, and presently saw a
black hand, which looked like the hand of a dead man, stretching forth
from the earth. I was frightened, and ran to Monsieur: 'There are dead
men, master,' said I, 'under the olive tree! We had better send for the
priest!' 'What, are you talking about dead men?' said he. He comes to
the place, and no sooner sees the hand than he begins to cry out like
mad, 'An antique! an antique!' You would have thought he had found a
treasure. And so to work he goes with pickaxe and hands, and with such
a hearty will that he did as much as Jean and I together.'
'And at last what did you find?'
'A large black woman, more than half naked, saving your presence, Sir,
all of copper; and Monsieur Peyrade told us that it was an idol of the
heathenish times--of the time of Charlemagne, may be!'
'Ah! I see what it is; some good virgin in bronze from a ruined
convent.'
'A good virgin! ah! yes indeed. I should have known it soon enough,
had it been a blessed virgin. No, no; it is an idol, I tell you; you
can see that well enough by its looks. It stares upon you with its
great white eyes. They say it will stare you out of countenance. One is
forced to cast down his eyes when he looks at it.'
'White eyes? no doubt they are inserted in the bronze; this must be
some Roman statue.'
'Roman! that's it; Monsieur Peyrade said it was a Roman. Ah! I see you
are a learned man; just such another as he.'
'Is it in good preservation? perfect?'
'Oh yes, Sir, nothing is wanting. It is handsomer, and better made than
the bust of Louis Philippe of painted plaster, which stands in the
town-hall. But for all this, the face of this idol does not please me.
She has got a wicked look; and in fact, she is so.'
'Wicked? why what trick has she played you?'
'Not exactly on me; but you shall hear. Four of us went to work to
set her upright; and Monsieur Peyrade, he too must pull at a rope,
although, worthy man! he hasn't much more strength than a chicken. With
a good deal of trouble we at last got her straight up. I took a piece
of tile to keep her steady, when _patratas_! down she comes headlong,
all in a heap. I sung out: 'Take care below!' but not quick enough,
however, for Jean Coll hadn't time to pull out his leg.'
'And was he injured?'
'Broken smack off was his poor leg, as if it had been a bean-pole.
Sacristi! when I saw that, I was furious. I wanted to break the idol
to pieces with my pickaxe, but Monsieur Peyrade wouldn't let me. He
gave some money to Jean Coll, who is still in his bed, though it is a
fortnight since this happened; and the doctor says he will never walk
as well on this leg as on the other. 'Tis a great pity, for he was our
best runner, and, next to young master, the best tennis-player in the
country. Monsieur Alphonse Peyrade takes it very much to heart, for he
always played with Coll. Oh! it was a beautiful sight to see them send
the balls up! _Paff_--_paff_--they never touched the ground.'
Conversing in this manner, we entered Ille, and I soon found myself in
the presence of Monsieur Peyrade. He was a little old man, still ruddy
and active, with powdered hair, a red nose, and a gay and jovial air.
Before opening the letter of Monsieur de P----, he installed me at a
well-spread table, and introduced me to his wife and son, as an eminent
archeologist who was going to draw forth Roussillon from the state of
oblivion in which the indifference of the savans had so long left it.
While eating with that fine appetite which the keen mountain air
imparts, I studied the appearance of my hosts. I have already spoken of
Monsieur Peyrade; I may add that he was vivacity itself. He chattered,
ate, jumped up, ran to the library, brought me books, showed me prints,
poured out wine for me; in short, he was not a moment in repose. His
wife, who, as most of the Catalonian women are after the age of forty,
was rather fat, and seemed to be a substantial country dame, wholly
taken up with the affairs of her household. Although the supper was
sufficient for at least six persons, she ran to the kitchen, ordered
pigeons to be killed, had fritters made, and opened I know not how
many pots of sweet-meats. In a few moments the table was loaded with
dishes and bottles, and had I only tasted all that was offered me, I
should certainly have died of indigestion. Still, at every dish which I
declined, there were fresh apologies. They were 'afraid I did not find
things to my liking at Ille. They had so few resources in the country,
and Parisians were so hard to please!'
During all this bustle and turmoil, and running to and fro of his
progenitors, Monsieur Alphonse Peyrade remained motionless as a post.
He was a tall young man, of about six-and-twenty, with handsome,
regular features, but totally devoid of expression. His figure
and athletic appearance accorded well with the reputation he bore
throughout the country, of being a first rate tennis-player. He was
dressed this evening in an elegant manner, his clothes being made to
resemble exactly the engravings of the last number of the Journal of
Fashion. But he did not seem to be at ease in his dress. He was as
stiff as a pike-staff in his velvet collar, and when he turned his
head, it was only by a movement of his whole body. His large sun-burnt
hands with their short nails contrasted strangely with his costly coat;
they were the hands of a laborer issuing from the sleeves of a dandy.
Although he examined me from head to foot, with great curiosity, which
my character as a Parisian had probably excited, he addressed to me but
a single question during the whole evening; which was to ask, where I
had bought my watch-chain.
'And now, my dear guest,' said Monsieur Peyrade to me, as supper drew
to a close, 'you are in my house, and are my property; and I shall not
let you go until you have seen all the curiosities of our mountains.
You must take some pains to get acquainted with our Roussillon, so as
to do her full justice. You must have no doubts about the things we
are going to show you. There are Phenician, Celtic, Roman, Arabic,
Bysantian monuments; you shall see them all, from the cedar to the
hyssop. I will take you every where, and not a brick shall escape you.'
A fit of coughing here forced the old gentleman to pause; taking
advantage of which, I began to express to him my regret at intruding
upon his family circle at such an interesting period.
'If you will only give me your excellent advice,' said I, 'touching
the excursions I propose making, I will not put you to the trouble of
accompanying me.'
'Ah!' said he, interrupting me, 'you mean the marriage of that
boy there. This is but a trifle; it will take place the day after
to-morrow. You must be present at the wedding with us, in a quiet
family way; for the intended bride is in mourning for an aunt, whose
property she inherits. So we are to have no merry-making, no ball.
This is a great pity. You ought to see our Catalonian girls dance.
They are buxom lasses, and perhaps some of them might induce you to
follow the example of my Alphonse. One marriage, they say, leads to
others. On Saturday, the young folks wedded, I shall be at liberty, and
then we will commence our rambles. But I beg pardon for wearying you
with this country wedding; you a Parisian, tired of city gayeties and
festivities: and a wedding without even a ball! However, you will see
a bride; and such a bride! you must tell me what you think of her. But
you are so grave and sedate a man, that perhaps you do not look at the
women. But I have something better than this to show you; I will let
you see something to-morrow! A grand surprise will you have, I promise
you.'
'Indeed,' said I, 'but it is a difficult matter to have a treasure in
one's house, without people being aware of it. I suspect I can guess
what it is you have in store for me. If it is your statue to which
you allude, the description my guide gave me of it has only served to
excite my curiosity, and prepared me to admire it.'
'Ah! you have then heard about the idol, as they call my beautiful
Venus Tur---- But I must say no more at present. To-morrow in broad
daylight you shall see her, and you will then say whether I have not
reason to be proud of such a master-piece. Parbleu! you could not have
arrived more opportunely. There are inscriptions upon it, which I, poor
ignoramus, explain after my own fashion; but a savant from Paris! You
will perhaps laugh at my explanations: for you must know that I have
drawn up a paper on the subject. Yes, even I, old country antiquary
as I am, have launched into it. I shall make the press groan. If you,
now, would read and correct my memoir for me, I should have some hopes.
For instance, I am very curious to know how you would translate this
inscription on the pedestal? CAVE---- But I must not ask
any thing of you now. To-morrow! to-morrow! Not a word of the Venus
to-night.'
'You will do well, Peyrade,' said his wife, 'to leave your idol alone
for the present. You must see that you are preventing Monsieur from
eating his supper. Besides, Monsieur has seen at Paris a great many
handsomer statues than thine. At the Tuilleries there are dozens of
them, and all of bronze too.'
'Here is ignorance for you! the blessed ignorance of the province!'
interrupted Monsieur Peyrade. 'To compare an admirable antique with the
foolish images of Costou! 'With what irreverence do my household speak
of the gods!' Do you know that my wife wishes me to melt my statue, and
run it into a bell for the church! The good dame would like to stand
godmother to it. A master-piece of Myron, Sir.'
'Master-piece! master-piece! a pretty master-piece she has made of it!
To break a man's leg!'
'Look you here, my wife,' said Monsieur Peyrade, in a resolute tone,
and stretching toward her his right leg encased in silken hose, 'if my
Venus had broken this leg, I should not have grieved for it.'
'Good heavens! Peyrade, how can you talk so? Luckily the man is doing
well; but still I cannot take pleasure in looking at a statue, which
causes such misfortunes. Poor Jean Coll!'
'Wounded by Venus, Sir,' said Monsieur Peyrade, bursting into a loud
laugh, 'wounded by Venus; the rogue may well complain: 'Veneris, nec
proemia noris;' who has not been wounded by Venus?'
Monsieur Alphonse, who understood French better than Latin, gave
a knowing wink, and looked toward me, as much as to say: 'Do you
understand that, Parisian?'
The supper at length was finished. I had not been able to eat a
mouthful for the last hour. I was extremely fatigued, and could not
conceal the frequent yawns which escaped me. Madame Peyrade was the
first to perceive them, and observed that it was time to go to bed.
Then commenced new apologies for the poor night's lodging I would have.
It would not be as at Paris. In the provinces one is so badly provided,
I must make allowances for the Roussillon fare. In vain I protested
that after a long journey in the mountains a bundle of straw would be
a delightful bed; they persisted in begging me to pardon poor country
folks, if they did not treat me as well as they wished. At length I
ascended to the chamber allotted me, accompanied by Monsieur Peyrade.
The staircase, the upper steps of which were of wood, terminated in the
middle of a corridor, upon which a number of apartments opened.
'On the right,' said my host to me, 'is the room I have appropriated to
Madame Alphonse, that is to be. Your chamber is at the opposite end of
the corridor. You know,' added he, with an air which was meant to be
facetious, 'you know we must keep the new married couple by themselves.
You are at one end of the house, and they are at the other.'
We entered a well-furnished apartment, where the first object which met
my eye was a bed about seven feet long, six wide, and so high that it
would require a step-ladder to clamber into it. My host having pointed
out to me the bell-rope, and satisfied himself that the sugar-basin was
replenished, and the bottles of Cologne water, and other appendages
of the toilet, duly placed upon the table, and having asked me twenty
times over if I wished for any thing more, at length bade me good night
and left me alone.
The windows were closed. Before undressing, I opened one, that I
might enjoy the cool night air, so delicious after a long supper.
Opposite me was the Canigou, at all times striking in appearance, and
now illuminated by the beams of a brilliant moon, seeming the most
beautiful mountain in the world. I stood for some time gazing upon its
picturesque outlines, and was about closing the window, when casting my
eyes down, I perceived the statue upon a pedestal, some twenty toises
from the house. It was placed at the corner of a quickset hedge, which
separated a small garden from a large square perfectly level, which I
afterward learned was the tennis-ground of the village. This piece of
land, the property of Monsieur Peyrade, had been thrown open to the
public by him, at the urgent solicitation of his son. At the distance
at which I stood, it was difficult to distinguish the attitude of
the statue. I could only judge of its height, which seemed about six
feet. Just at this moment, two idlers of the village passed across
the play-ground, pretty near the hedge, whistling the pretty air of
Roussillon _montagnes regalades_. They stopped to look at the statue,
and one of them apostrophized it aloud. He spoke the Catalonian
dialect, but I had been long enough in Roussillon to comprehend nearly
all he said.
'Ah! there you are, you slut! (the Catalonian epithet was more
energetic) there you are!' said he. 'It was you, then, that broke Jean
Coll's leg? If you belonged to me I would break your cursed neck!'
'Bah!' said the other, 'with what? She is made of copper, and so hard
that Stephen broke his file trying to make a notch in her. It is copper
of the time of the heathens, and harder than any thing I know.'
'If I had my good chisel here, (it seems he was a locksmith's
apprentice,) I would soon have out those big white eyes, as I would
take an almond from the shell. There's enough silver there to make an
hundred sous.'
They proceeded a few paces. 'I must bid the idol good night,' said the
larger of the two apprentices, suddenly stopping.
He stooped down and probably picked up a stone. I could see him stretch
out his arm, throw something, and immediately a ringing sound was heard
from the bronze. At the same instant, the apprentice put his hand to
his head, uttering a cry of pain.
'She has flung it back at me!' cried he; and the two vagabonds took to
flight, as fast as their legs could carry them. It was evident that the
stone had rebounded from the metal, and punished the wag for the insult
he had offered the goddess.
I closed the window, laughing heartily. 'Here is another Vandal
punished by Venus! May all the destroyers of our ancient monuments have
their heads broken in the same manner!' With this charitable wish I
fell asleep.
When I awoke it was broad day. Near my bed stood on one side Monsieur
Peyrade in his morning gown, and on the other a domestic sent by his
wife, with a cup of chocolate.
'Come, get up, get up, Parisian! Why, what lazy fellows you of the
capital are!' said my host, as I hurried on my clothes. 'This is the
third time I have been up here. I approached your door on tiptoe:
nobody stirring; not a sign of life. It is bad for the health to
sleep too much at your age. And there is my Venus, which you have not
seen yet. Come, swallow this cup of chocolate from Barcelona; real
contraband. You can't get the like of it at Paris. You will need all
your strength, I can tell you; for when you once get before my Venus
you will not so easily be drawn away from her.'
In five minutes I was ready; that is to say, half shaven, scarcely
buttoned, and with throat scalded by the chocolate, which I had
swallowed boiling hot. I descended into the garden, and found myself
before an admirable statue.
It was, in truth, a Venus, and of a marvellous beauty. She was
above the common stature, as the ancients usually represented their
principal divinities. The right hand raised to the level of the breast,
was turned with the palm inward, the thumb and two first fingers
outstretched, the two others slightly bent. The other hand placed near
the hip, sustained the drapery which covered the lower part of the
body. The attitude of this statue reminded me of that of the thrower
of the discus, which is designated, I know not why, as Germanicus.
Possibly the artist wished to represent the goddess playing at that
game.
However this might be, it was impossible to conceive any thing more
perfect than the figure of this Venus; nothing more soft or more
voluptuous than its outlines; nothing more noble or elegant than the
drapery. I had expected some production of the middle ages; I saw a
master-piece of the best period of statuary. What chiefly struck me was
the exquisite truth of its form, so that one might have supposed it
modelled from nature, did nature ever produce perfect models.
The hair, turned back from the forehead, appeared to have been formerly
gilded. The head, small like those of almost all the Greek statues,
was slightly inclined forward. As to the face, I despair of being able
to express its strange character, the type of which did not at all
resemble that of any ancient statue I remembered. It was not that calm
and severe beauty of the Greek sculptors, which imparts by design to
all the features a majestic repose. Here, on the contrary, I observed
with surprise the evident intention of the artist to express in the
countenance malice almost bordering on malignity. All the features
were slightly contracted; the eyes a little oblique, the corners
of the mouth drawn up, and the nostrils somewhat dilated. Disdain,
irony, cruelty, might be read in the countenance, which was still
of incredible beauty. Indeed, the more one looked at this admirable
statue, the more one experienced a sense of pain that such marvellous
beauty should be allied with the absence of all sensibility.
'If her model ever existed,' said I to Monsieur Peyrade, 'and I doubt
if heaven ever produced such a woman, how I should pity her lovers!
She would have taken pleasure in making them die of despair. There is
something ferocious in her expression, and yet I have never seen any
thing more beautiful.'
'C'est Venus tout entière à sa proie attachée!' exclaimed Monsieur
Peyrade, satisfied with my enthusiasm.
This expression of infernal irony was perhaps increased by the contrast
of the silver eyes, which were very brilliant, with the hue of blackish
green which time had given to the whole statue. These lustrous eyes
produced a certain illusion which almost gave the effect of the reality
of life. I recollected what my guide told me, that she made those who
looked at her cast down their eyes. This was in fact almost true; and
I could not help feeling vexed at finding myself not quite at my ease
before this visage of bronze.
'Now that you have admired every thing in detail, my dear colleague in
antiquarian lore,' said my host to me, 'let us have, if you please, a
little scientific conference. What say you to this inscription, which
you have not yet noticed?'
He pointed to the pedestal of the statue, where I read these words: