She was a woman Of virtue most austere; noble in birth,
And of most royal presence--but sad thoughts
Seemed to possess her wholly--her children, even,
Seldom approached her, and when they did,
No soft affection, motherly caress,
Was e’er accorded to them--stern and cold,
She looked a moving statue.--Old Play.
About six months after the occurrence of the events we have just
related, and in the early part of the spring of 1780, a post chaise,
whose wheels and panels covered with mud and dust, clearly certified
that it had performed a long journey, was dragging slowly along,
although two powerful horses were harnessed to it, upon the road between
Vanness and Auray. The traveller it contained, and who was roughly
jolted in traversing the cross-roads, was our former aquaintance, Count
Emanuel, whom we saw open the scene upon the jetty of Fort Louis. He was
coming from Paris with all haste, and proceeding to his ancient family
mansion, with regard to which it is now necessary to give some more
precise and circumstantial details.
Count Emanuel d’Auray was descended from one of the oldest families
in Brittany--one of his ancestors had followed Saint Louis to the Holy
Land, and from that time the name, of which he was the last inheritor,
had been constantly blended with the history of our monarchy, whether in
its victories or defeats. His father, the Marquis of d’Auray, Chevalier
of the order of St. Louis, Commander of the order of St. Michael, and
Grand Cross of the order of the Holy Ghost, enjoyed at the Court of
Louis XV., in which he filled the post of high steward, that high
distinction to which his birth, his fortune and nis personal merit,
truly entitled him. His influence there had been increased by his
marriage with Mademoiselle de Sable, who was his equal in every thing
that regarded family or credit at court: so that a brilliant future was
opened to the ambition of the young people, when, after being married
five years, a report was suddenly spread about the court, that the
Marquis d’Auray had become insane during a journey he had made to his
estates. This report was for a long time disbelieved. At length
the winter arrived, and neither the marquis nor his wife made their
appearance at Versailles. His place was kept open for him another
year, for the king, still hoping he would regain his reason, refused to
appoint a successor to it; but a second winter passed on, and even the
marchioness did not return to pay her court to the queen. In France
people are soon forgotten; absence is a wearying malady, to which
even the greatest names sooner or later must succumb. The shroud of
indifference was gradually spread over this family, immured in their old
chateau, as in a tomb, and whose voices were not heard either soliciting
or complaining. Genealogists alone had duly enregistered the birth of
a son and daughter, the only fruits of this union; the d’Aurays,
therefore, continued to figure among the names of the French nobility;
but not having mixed themselves up for more than twenty years either in
court intrigues or in political affairs, not having sided either with
a Pampadour or a Du Barry, not having distinguished themselves in the
victories of the Maréchal de Broglie, or in the defeats of the Count
Clermont--in short, having neither sound nor echo, they had been
completely forgotten.
However, the ancient name of the lords of d’Auray had been twice
pronounced at court, but without producing any impression. The first
time on the occasion of the young Count Emanuel’s being admitted in
1769, as one of the pages of Louis XV., and the second, when after
having served his time as page, he entered the company of mousquetaires
of the young King Louis XVI. He had, during this time, become acquainted
with the Baron de Lectoure, a distant relation of M. de Maurepas, who
was favorably disposed towards him, and who enjoyed a considerable
degree of influence with that minister. Emanuel had been presented to
his old courtier, who having been informed that the Count d’Auray had
a sister, one day let fall a few words upon the possibility of an union
between the two families. Emanuel, young and full of ambition, wearied
with struggling beneath the veil which had obscured his family name, saw
in this marriage a means of regaining the position which his father had
occupied at court under the late king, and had eagerly caught at the
first overtures for this alliance. M. de Lectoure, on his side, under
the pretext of uniting himself still closer by the bands of brotherhood,
to his young friend, had urged his suit with an eagerness which was so
much the more flattering to Emanuel, that the man who demanded the hand
of his sister had never seen her. The Marchioness d’Auray had listened
the more readily to this proposal, as it opened to her son the road to
royal favor, and the marriage was agreed upon, if not between the two
young people, at all events between the families. Emanuel, who preceded
M. de Lectoure three or four days only, had hastened into the country
to inform his mother that everything had been arranged according to her
desire. As to Marguerite, the intended wife, they contented themselves
with informing her of the resolution they had taken without thinking
it necessary to ask her consent to it, in about the same way that a
criminal is informed of the sentence which condemns him to the scaffold.
It was, therefore, thus cradling himself in the brilliant dreams of
future exalted favor, and bouying himself up with the most elevated
projects of ambition, that young Count Emanuel re-entered the gloomy
castle of his family, whose feudal towers, black walls, and court yards,
overgrown with grass, formed so striking a contrast with the golden
hopes that agitated him. The castle was a league and a half distant from
any other dwelling. The principal facade overlooked that part of the
ocean, which being so constantly swept by storms, has obtained the name
of “the Wild Sea.” The other looked toward an immense park, which,
being for twenty years abandoned and uncultivated, had become a complete
forest. As to the apartments, they had remained constantly closed, with
the exception of those inhabited by the family. The furniture, which had
been renewed during the reign of Louis XIV., had, thanks to the care of
a numerous household, retained a rich and aristocratic appearance, which
the more modern part of it had begun to lose, and which, although more
elegant, was less magnificent. It had been supplied from the workshops
of Boule, the appointed upholsterer of the court.
It was into one of these rooms, with deep mouldings, sculptured chimney
pieces, and ceiling painted in fresco, that the Count Emanuel was
ushered on alighting from his carriage. He was in such haste to
communicate to his mother the happy news of which he was the bearer,
that without taking the time to change his dress, he threw his hat, his
gloves, and travelling pistols on the table, and ordered an old servant
to inform the marchioness of his arrival, and to ask her permission to
present himself, saying that he would await it in that room; for such in
this old family was the respect paid to parents, that the son, after an
absence of five months, did not dare to present himself to his mother,
without in the first place consulting her desires upon the subject. As
to the Marquis d’Auray, his children could not remember having seen
him more than two or three times, and then it was by stealth: for his
insanity was of a nature, it was said, that certain objects irritated,
and they had been always kept from him with the greatest precaution. The
marchioness alone, a model of conjugal virtue, remained always with him,
fulfilling towards the poor lunatic not only the duties of a wife,
but also those of a servant. Consequently, her name was revered in the
surrounding villages, as that of a saint, whose devotedness on earth has
gained a place in heaven.
In a few moments the old servant returned, and announced that the
marchioness d’Auray preferred coming down to him, and begged that
the count would wait for her in the room in which he then was. Almost
immediately afterward the door of the room again opened, and Emanuel’s
mother entered it. She was about forty or forty-five years of age,
tall and pale, but still handsome, whose calm, austere and melancholy
features had a singular appearance of haughtiness, energy, and command.
She was in costume of a widow as adopted in 1760, for since the time
that her husband had lost his reason, she had never laid aside her
mourning garments. Her long black gown gave to her movements, cold and
slow as those of a shadow, a solemn appearance, which shed around this
extraordinary woman a feeling of awe, which even filial affection had
never been able to surmount. Therefore, on seeing her, Emanuel started
as at the sight of an unexpected apparition, and instantly rising, he
advanced three steps toward her, respectfully went down upon one knee,
and kissed the hand she presented to him.
“Rise, sir,” said the marchioness. “I am happy to see you again.” And
she pronounced these words with as little emotion as if her son, who
had been absent five months, had left her but the day before. Emanuel
obeyed, conducted his mother to a large arm chair, in which she seated
herself, and he remained standing before her.
“I received your letter, count,” she said, “and I congratulate you on
your skill. You appear to me born for diplomacy, and even more so than
for military life. You ought to request the Baron de Lectoure to obtain
an embassy for you, rather than a regiment.”
“Lectoure is ready to solicit any thing we may desire, madam; and what
is more, he will obtain any thing we may solicit, so great is his power
with M. Maurepas, and so great is his love for my sister.”
“In love with a woman he has never seen?”
“Lectoure is a gentleman, madam, and the portrait I have drawn of
Marguerite, and perhaps the information he has received as to our
fortune, has inspired him with the most earnest desire to become your
son and to call himself my brother. And therefore he has requested that
all the preliminary ceremonies may be gone through in his absence. You
have obtained the publication of the bans, madam?”
“Yes.”
“The day after to-morrow, then, the marriage contract can be signed.”
“With the help of God, all will be ready.”
“Thanks, madam.”
“But tell me,” continued the marchioness, leaning on the arm of her
chair, and bending toward Emanuel, “has he not questioned you regarding
that young man, for whom he obtained from the minister an order of
deportation?”
“By no means, my mother, these are services which are asked without
entering into any explanation, and which are granted in implicit
confidence. It is well understood between people who know the world,
that they are to be forgotten as soon as rendered.”
“Then he knows nothing?”
“No--but did he know all----”
“Well?”
“Well, madam, I believe he is so much of a philosopher, that the
discovery would not in any way influence his determination.”
“I thought as much; he is a ruined spendthrift,” replied the
marchioness, with an indescribable expression of contempt, and as if
speaking to herself.
“But supposing it should be so,” said Emanuel anxiously, “your
resolution would be still unchanged, I hope.”
“Are we not rich enough to repair his fortune if he can restore our
former influence?”
“Then, there is only my sister----”
“Do you doubt that she will obey me, when I inform her of my will?”
“Can you believe, then, that she has forgotten Lusignan?”
“For seven months, at least, she has not dared to remember him in my
presence.”
“Reflect, my mother, that this marriage is the only means by which our
family can be restored to influence; for there is one thing I must not
conceal from you. My father has been ill for fifteen years, and having
been absent from court so long, was completely forgotten by the old king
at his death, and by the young king on his accession to the throne. Your
virtuous attention to the marquis, has not permitted you to leave him,
even for a moment, since the hour in which he was deprived of reason;
your virtues, madam, are of that nature which God sees, and recompenses,
but of which the world remains ignorant; and while you are fulfilling in
this old forgotten castle in Brittany, the holy and consolatory mission,
which you call a duty, your former friends disappear, they die, or they
forget you (this is a painful truth to people, who like us, can count
six hundred years of illustrious nobility); for when I reappeared at
court, our name, the name of the family d’Auray, was hardly known to
their majesties, but as an historical recollection.”
“Yes; I know full well that kings have but short memories,” murmured
the marchioness; but instantly, and as if reproaching herself for such
a blasphemy, she rejoined, “I hope that the blessing of God may always
attend their majesties and France.”
“And what can in any way affect their happiness?” replied Emanuel,
with that perfect confidence in the future, which in those days was the
distinctive, characteristic of the hair-brained and unthinking nobility.
“Louis XVI. is young and good; Marie Antoinette young and lovely; both
of them beloved by a brave and loyal people. Fate has placed them,
Heaven be praised, beyond the reach of every evil.”
“No one, my son,” replied the marchioness, mournfully shaking her head,
“believe me, is placed beyond the reach of human woes and human frailty.
No heart, however confidently its owner may believe that he can master
it, firm as it may be, is proof against the passions; and no head,
were it even a crowned one, but may be blanched in a single night. The
people, you say, are brave and loyal.” The marchioness arose and slowly
advanced to the window, and with a solemn gesture pointing to the ocean.
“Observe that sea; it is now calm and peaceful; and yet to-morrow, this
night, in an hour perhaps, the breath of the tempest may bear us the
cries of distress of unhappy beings it is about to engulph. Although I
am separated from the world, strange reports sometimes reach my ears,
borne as it were by invisible and prophetic spirits. Does there not
exist a sect of philosophers which has led away men of high name, by the
errors which it propagates? Do they not speak of a whole world, which
is detaching itself from the mother country, whose children refuse to
acknowledge their father? Is there not a people who style themselves a
nation? Have I not heard it said that men of high birth have crossed the
ocean, to offer to rebels, swords which their ancestors never drew but
at the call of their legitimate sovereigns? and have I not been told,
moreover, or is it but the dream of my solitude, that King Louis XVI.
and the Queen, Marie Antoinette herself, forgetting that sovereigns are
a family of brothers, have authorised these armed emigrations, and have
given letters of marque to I know not what foreign pirate?”
“All this is true,” said Emanuel, much astonished.
“May God, then, watch over their majesties, the King and Queen of
France!” rejoined the marchioness as she slowly retired from the room,
leaving Emanuel so astounded at these painful forebodings, that he saw
her withdraw without uttering a word or even making a gesture to retain
her.
Emanuel remained for some time pensive and serious, but soon his buoyant
character surmounted these gloomy presages, and as if thinking to change
his ideas by changing the view he had been gazing at, he left the window
which opened towards the sea, and crossed the room to another, whence
he could discern the whole of the plain which extends itself between
d’Auray and Vannes. He had been there but a few minutes, when he
perceived two persons on horseback, following the same road he had just
travelled over, and who appeared to be approaching the castle. As they
drew nearer he could distinguish that they were a gentleman and his
servant. The first, dressed in the costume of young men of fashion of
that day, that is to say, in a short green riding coat with gold frogs,
stocking-knit breeches, and top-boots, wearing a round hat with a broad
brim, and his hair tied with a large bow of ribbons. He was mounted on
an English horse of rare beauty and great value, which he managed with a
grace that proved he had made equestrian exercises a profound study. He
was followed at a short distance by a servant, whose aristocratic livery
was in perfect harmony with the lordly air of the person whom he served.
Emanuel imagined for a moment on seeing them proceed so directly towards
the castle, that it was the Baron de Lectoure, who, having hastened his
departure from Paris, intended to surprise him; but he soon found that
he was mistaken; and although it appeared to him that it was not the
first time he had seen the horseman, he could not recollect where or
under what circumstances he had met him. While he was racking his memory
to discover the event in his life with which this vague remembrance was
connected, the strangers had disappeared behind an angle of the castle
wall. Five minutes afterwards Emanuel heard the sound of their horses’
feet in the court yard, and, almost immediately the door was opened; a
servant announced, “_Mr. Paul!_”