by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XII.
Ay, this is he who wears the wreath of bays Wove by Apollo and the Sisters Nine, Which Jove's dread lightning scathes not. He hath doft The cumbrous helm of steel, and flung aside The yet more galling diadem of gold; While, with a leafy circlet round his brows, He reigns the King of Lovers and of Poets.
A cautious approach to the chimney--that is, the favourite walk of theKing, who is described by Shakspeare as bearing
the style of King of Naples, Of both the Sicilies, and Jerusalem, Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman,
gave Arthur the perfect survey of his Majesty in person. He saw an oldman, with locks and beard, which, in amplitude and whiteness, nearlyrivalled those of the envoy from Schwitz, but with a fresh and ruddycolour in his cheek, and an eye of great vivacity. His dress was showyto a degree almost inconsistent with his years; and his step, not onlyfirm but full of alertness and vivacity, while occupied in traversingthe short and sheltered walk, which he had chosen rather for comfortthan for privacy, showed juvenile vigour still animating an agedframe. The old King carried his tablets and a pencil in his hand,seeming totally abstracted in his own thoughts, and indifferent tobeing observed by several persons from the public street beneath hiselevated promenade.
Of these, some, from their dress and manner, seemed themselvesTroubadours; for they held in their hands rebecks, rotes, smallportable harps, and other indications of their profession. Suchappeared to be stationary, as if engaged in observing and recordingtheir remarks on the meditations of their Prince. Other passengers,bent on their own more serious affairs, looked up to the King as tosome one whom they were accustomed to see daily, but never passedwithout doffing their bonnets, and expressing, by a suitableobeisance, a respect and affection towards his person, which appearedto make up in cordiality of feeling what it wanted in deep and solemndeference.
Rene, in the meanwhile, was apparently unconscious both of the gaze ofsuch as stood still, or the greeting of those who passed on, his mindseeming altogether engrossed with the apparent labour of some arduoustask in poetry or music. He walked fast or slow as best suited theprogress of composition. At times he stopped to mark hastily down onhis tablets something which seemed to occur to him as deserving ofpreservation; at other times he dashed out what he had written, andflung down the pencil as if in a sort of despair. On these occasions,the Sibylline leaf was carefully picked up by a beautiful page, hisonly attendant, who reverently observed the first suitable opportunityof restoring it again to his royal hand. The same youth bore a viol,on which, at a signal from his master, he occasionally struck a fewmusical notes, to which the old King listened, now with a soothed andsatisfied air, now with a discontented and anxious brow. At times hisenthusiasm rose so high that he even hopped and skipped, with anactivity which his years did not promise; at other times his motionswere extremely slow, and occasionally he stood still, like one wrappedin the deepest and most anxious meditation. When he chanced to look onthe group which seemed to watch his motions, and who ventured even tosalute him with a murmur of applause, it was only to distinguish themwith a friendly and good-humoured nod; a salutation with which,likewise, he failed not to reply to the greeting of the occasionalpassengers, when his earnest attention to his task, whatever it mightbe, permitted him to observe them.
At length the royal eye lighted upon Arthur, whose attitude of silentobservation and the distinction of his figure pointed him out as astranger. Rene beckoned to his page, who, receiving his master'scommands in a whisper, descended from the royal chimney to the broaderplatform beneath, which was open to general resort. The youth,addressing Arthur with much courtesy, informed him the King desired tospeak with him. The young Englishman had no alternative but that ofapproaching, though pondering much in his own mind how he ought tocomport himself towards such a singular specimen of royalty.
When he drew near, King Rene addressed him in a tone of courtesy notunmingled with dignity, and Arthur's awe in his immediate presence wasgreater than he himself could have anticipated from his previousconception of the royal character.
"You are, from your appearance, fair sir," said King Rene, "a strangerin this country. By what name must we call you, and to what businessare we to ascribe the happiness of seeing you at our court?"
Arthur remained a moment silent, and the good old man, imputing it toawe and timidity, proceeded in an encouraging tone.
"Modesty in youth is ever commendable; you are doubtless an acolyte inthe noble and joyous science of Minstrelsy and Music, drawn hither bythe willing welcome which we afford to the professors of those arts,in which--praise be to Our Lady and the saints!--we have ourself beendeemed a proficient."
"I do not aspire to the honours of a Troubadour," answered Arthur.
"I believe you," answered the King, "for your speech smacks of thenorthern, or Norman-French, such as is spoken in England and otherunrefined nations. But you are a minstrel, perhaps, from theseultramontane parts. Be assured we despise not their efforts; for wehave listened, not without pleasure and instruction, to many of theirbold and wild romaunts, which, though rude in device and language, andtherefore far inferior to the regulated poetry of our Troubadours,have yet something in their powerful and rough measure whichoccasionally rouses the heart like the sound of a trumpet."
"I have felt the truth of your Grace's observation, when I have heardthe songs of my country," said Arthur; "but I have neither skill noraudacity to imitate what I admire--My latest residence has been inItaly."
"You are perhaps, then, a proficient in painting," said Rene; "an artwhich applies itself to the eye as poetry and music do to the ear,and is scarce less in esteem with us. If you are skilful in the art,you have come to a monarch who loves it, and the fair country in whichit is practised."
"In simple truth, Sire, I am an Englishman, and my hand has been toomuch welk'd and hardened by practice of the bow, the lance, and thesword, to touch the harp, or even the pencil."
"An Englishman!" said Rene, obviously relaxing in the warmth of hiswelcome. "And what brings you here? England and I have long had littlefriendship together."
"It is even on that account that I am here," said Arthur. "I come topay my homage to your Grace's daughter, the Princess Margaret ofAnjou, whom I and many true Englishmen regard still as our Queen,though traitors have usurped her title."
"Alas, good youth," said Rene, "I must grieve for you, while I respectyour loyalty and faith. Had my daughter Margaret been of my mind, shehad long since abandoned pretensions which have drowned in seas ofblood the noblest and bravest of her adherents."
The King seemed about to say more, but checked himself.
"Go to my palace," he said; "inquire for the Seneschal Hugh de SaintCyr, he will give thee the means of seeing Margaret--that is, if it beher will to see thee. If not, good English youth, return to my palace,and thou shalt have hospitable entertainment; for a King who lovesminstrelsy, music, and painting is ever most sensible to the claims ofhonour, virtue, and loyalty; and I read in thy looks thou artpossessed of these qualities, and willingly believe thou mayst, inmore quiet times, aspire to share the honours of the joyous science.But if thou hast a heart to be touched by the sense of beauty and fairproportion, it will leap within thee at the first sight of my palace,the stately grace of which may be compared to the faultless form ofsome high-bred dame, or the artful yet seemingly simple modulations ofsuch a tune as we have been now composing."
The King seemed disposed to take his instrument, and indulge the youthwith a rehearsal of the strain he had just arranged; but Arthur atthat moment experienced the painful internal feeling of that peculiarspecies of shame which well-constructed minds feel when they seeothers express a great assumption of importance, with a confidencethat they are exciting admiration, when in fact they are only exposingthemselves to ridicule. Arthur, in short, took leave, "in very shame,"of the King of Naples, both the Sicilies, and Jerusalem, in a mannersomewhat more abrupt than ceremony demanded. The
King looked afterhim, with some wonder at this want of breeding, which, however, heimputed to his visitor's insular education, and then again began totwangle his viol.
"The old fool!" said Arthur. "His daughter is dethroned, his dominionscrumbling to pieces, his family on the eve of becoming extinct, hisgrandson driven from one lurking-place to another, and expelled fromhis mother's inheritance,--and he can find amusement in thesefopperies! I thought him, with his long white beard, like NicholasBonstetten; but the old Swiss is a Solomon compared with him."
As these and other reflections, highly disparaging to King Rene,passed through Arthur's mind, he reached the place of rendezvous, andfound Thiebault beneath the steaming fountain, forced from one ofthose hot springs which had been the delight of the Romans from anearly period. Thiebault, having assured his master that his retinue,horse and man, were so disposed as to be ready on an instant's call,readily undertook to guide him to King Rene's palace, which, from itssingularity, and indeed its beauty of architecture, deserved theeulogium which the old monarch had bestowed upon it. The frontconsisted of three towers of Roman architecture, two of them beingplaced on the angles of the palace, and the third, which served thepurpose of a mausoleum, forming a part of the group, though somewhatdetached from the other buildings. This last was a structure ofbeautiful proportions. The lower part of the edifice was square,serving as a sort of pedestal to the upper part, which was circular,and surrounded by columns of massive granite. The other two towers atthe angles of the palace were round, and also ornamented with pillars,and with a double row of windows. In front of, and connected with,these Roman remains, to which a date has been assigned as early as thefifth or sixth century, arose the ancient palace of the Counts ofProvence, built a century or two later, but where a rich Gothic orMoorish front contrasted, and yet harmonised, with the more regularand massive architecture of the lords of the world. It is not morethan thirty or forty years since this very curious remnant of antiqueart was destroyed, to make room for new public buildings, which havenever yet been erected.
Arthur really experienced some sensation of the kind which the oldKing had prophesied, and stood looking with wonder at the ever-opengate of the palace, into which men of all kinds seemed to enterfreely. After looking around for a few minutes, the young Englishmanascended the steps of a noble portico, and asked of a porter, as oldand as lazy as a great man's domestic ought to be, for the seneschalnamed to him by the King. The corpulent janitor, with greatpoliteness, put the stranger under the charge of a page, who usheredhim to a chamber, in which he found another aged functionary of higherrank, with a comely face, a clear composed eye, and a brow which,having never been knit into gravity, intimated that the seneschal ofAix was a proficient in the philosophy of his royal master. Herecognised Arthur the moment he addressed him.
"You speak northern French, fair sir; you have lighter hair and afairer complexion than the natives of this country--You ask afterQueen Margaret--By all these marks I read you English--Her Grace ofEngland is at this moment paying a vow at the monastery of Mont St.Victoire, and if your name be Arthur Philipson, I have commission toforward you to her presence immediately--that is, as soon as you havetasted of the royal provision."
The young man would have remonstrated, but the seneschal left him noleisure.
"Meat and mass," he said, "never hindered work--it is perilous toyouth to journey too far on an empty stomach--he himself would take amouthful with the Queen's guest, and pledge him to boot in a flask ofold Hermitage."
The board was covered with an alacrity which showed that hospitalitywas familiarly exercised in King Rene's dominions. Pasties, dishes ofgame, the gallant boar's head, and other delicacies were placed on thetable, and the seneschal played the merry host, frequently apologising(unnecessarily) for showing an indifferent example, as it was his dutyto carve before King Rene, and the good King was never pleased unlesshe saw him feed lustily as well as carve featly.
"But for you, Sir Guest, eat freely, since you may not see food againtill sunset; for the good Queen takes her misfortunes so to heart thatsighs are her food, and her tears a bottle of drink, as the Psalmisthath it. But I bethink me you will need steeds for yourself and yourequipage to reach Mont St. Victoire, which is seven miles from Aix."
Arthur intimated that he had a guide and horses in attendance, andbegged permission to take his adieu. The worthy seneschal, his fairround belly graced with a gold chain, accompanied him to the gate witha step which a gentle fit of the gout had rendered uncertain, butwhich, he assured Arthur, would vanish before three days' use of thehot springs. Thiebault appeared before the gate, not with the tiredsteeds from which they had dismounted an hour since, but with freshpalfreys from the stable of the King.
"They are yours from the moment you have put foot in stirrup," saidthe seneschal; "the good King Rene never received back as his propertya horse which he had lent to a guest; and that is perhaps one reasonwhy his Highness and we of his household must walk often a-foot."
Here the seneschal exchanged greetings with his young visitor, whorode forth to seek Queen Margaret's place of temporary retirement atthe celebrated monastery of St. Victoire. He demanded of his guide inwhich direction it lay, who pointed, with an air of triumph, to amountain three thousand feet and upwards in height, which arose atfive or six miles' distance from the town, and which its bold androcky summit rendered the most distinguished object of the landscape.Thiebault spoke of it with unusual glee and energy, so much so as tolead Arthur to conceive that his trusty squire had not neglected toavail himself of the lavish hospitality of _Le bon Roy Rene_.Thiebault, however, continued to expatiate on the fame of the mountainand monastery. They derived their name, he said, from a great victorywhich was gained by a Roman general, named Caio Mario, against twolarge armies of Saracens with ultramontane names (the Teutonesprobably and Cimbri), in gratitude to Heaven for which victory CaioMario vowed to build a monastery on the mountain, for the service ofthe Virgin Mary, in honour of whom he had been baptised. With all theimportance of a local connoisseur, Thiebault proceeded to prove hisgeneral assertion by specific facts.
"Yonder," he said, "was the camp of the Saracens, from which, when thebattle was apparently decided, their wives and women rushed, withhorrible screams, dishevelled hair, and the gestures of furies, andfor a time prevailed in stopping the flight of the men." He pointedout, too, the river, for access to which, cut off by the superiorgeneralship of the Romans, the barbarians, whom he called Saracens,hazarded the action, and whose streams they empurpled with theirblood. In short, he mentioned many circumstances which showed howaccurately tradition will preserve the particulars of ancient events,even whilst forgetting, misstating, and confounding dates and persons.
Perceiving that Arthur lent him a not unwilling ear,--for it may besupposed that the education of a youth bred up in the heat of civilwars was not well qualified to criticise his account of the wars of adistant period,--the Provencal, when he had exhausted this topic, drewup close to his master's side, and asked, in a suppressed tone,whether he knew, or was desirous of being made acquainted with, thecause of Margaret's having left Aix, to establish herself in themonastery of St. Victoire?
"For the accomplishment of a vow," answered Arthur; "all the worldknows it."
"All Aix knows the contrary," said Thiebault; "and I can tell you thetruth, so I were sure it would not offend your seignorie."
"The truth can offend no reasonable man, so it be expressed in theterms of which Queen Margaret must be spoken in the presence of anEnglishman."
Thus replied Arthur, willing to receive what information he couldgather, and desirous, at the same time, to check the petulance of hisattendant.
"I have nothing," replied his follower, "to state in disparagement ofthe gracious Queen, whose only misfortune is that, like her royalfather, she has more titles than towns. Besides, I know well that youEnglishmen, though you speak wildly of your sovereigns yourselves,will not permit others to fail in respect to them."
"Say on, t
hen," answered Arthur.
"Your seignorie must know, then," said Thiebault, "that the good KingRene has been much disturbed by the deep melancholy which afflictedQueen Margaret, and has bent himself with all his power to change itinto a gayer humour. He made entertainments in public and in private;he assembled minstrels and Troubadours, whose music and poetry mighthave drawn smiles from one on his deathbed. The whole countryresounded with mirth and glee, and the gracious Queen could not stirabroad in the most private manner, but, before she had gone a hundredpaces, she lighted on an ambush, consisting of some pretty pageant, orfestivous mummery, composed often by the good King himself, whichinterrupted her solitude, in purpose of relieving her heavy thoughtswith some pleasant pastime. But the Queen's deep melancholy rejectedall these modes of dispelling it, and at length she confined herselfto her own apartments, and absolutely refused to see even her royalfather, because he generally brought into her presence those whoseproductions he thought likely to soothe her sorrow. Indeed she seemedto hear the harpers with loathing, and, excepting one wanderingEnglishman, who sung a rude and melancholy ballad, which threw herinto a flood of tears, and to whom she gave a chain of price, shenever seemed to look at, or be conscious of the presence of any one.And at length, as I have had the honour to tell your seignorie, sherefused to see even her royal father unless he came alone; and that hefound no heart to do."
"I wonder not at it," said the young man. "By the White Swan, I amrather surprised his mummery drove her not to frenzy."
"Something like it indeed took place," said Thiebault; "and I willtell your seignorie how it chanced. You must know that good King Rene,unwilling to abandon his daughter to the foul fiend of melancholy,bethought him of making a grand effort. You must know, further, thatthe King, powerful in all the craft of Troubadours and Jongleurs, isheld in peculiar esteem for conducting mysteries, and other of thosegamesome and delightful sports and processions, with which our HolyChurch permits her graver ceremonies to be relieved and diversified,to the cheering of the hearts of all true children of religion. It isadmitted that no one has ever been able to approach his excellence inthe arrangement of the Fete-Dieu; and the tune to which the devilscudgel King Herod, to the great edification of all Christianspectators, is of our good King's royal composition. He hath danced atTarasconne in the ballet of St. Martha and the Dragon, and wasaccounted in his own person the only actor competent to present theTarrasque. His Highness introduced also a new ritual into theconsecration of the Boy Bishop, and composed an entire set ofgrotesque music for the Festival of Asses. In short, his Grace'sstrength lies in those pleasing and becoming festivities which strewthe path of edification with flowers, and send men dancing and singingon their way to heaven.
"Now the good King Rene, feeling his own genius for such recreativecompositions, resolved to exert it to the utmost, in the hope that hemight thereby relieve the melancholy in which his daughter wasplunged, and which infected all that approached her. It chanced, someshort time since, that the Queen was absent for certain days, I knownot where or on what business, but it gave the good King time to makehis preparations. So, when his daughter returned, he with muchimportunity prevailed on her to make part of a religious procession toSt. Sauveur, the principal church in Aix. The Queen, innocent of whatwas intended, decked herself with solemnity, to witness and partake ofwhat she expected would prove a work of grave piety. But no sooner hadshe appeared on the esplanade in front of the palace, than more than ahundred masks, dressed up like Turks, Jews, Saracens, Moors, and Iknow not whom besides, crowded around, to offer her their homage, inthe character of the Queen of Sheba; and a grotesque piece of musiccalled them to arrange themselves for a ludicrous ballet, in whichthey addressed the Queen in the most entertaining manner, and with themost extravagant gestures. The Queen, stunned with the noise, andaffronted with the petulance of this unexpected onset, would have goneback into the palace; but the doors had been shut by the King's orderso soon as she set forth, and her retreat in that direction was cutoff. Finding herself excluded from the palace, the Queen advanced tothe front of the facade, and endeavoured by signs and words to appeasethe hubbub, but the maskers, who had their instructions, only answeredwith songs, music, and shouts."
"I would," said Arthur, "there had been a score of English yeomen inpresence, with their quarterstaves, to teach the bawling villainsrespect for one that has worn the crown of England!"
"All the noise that was made before was silence and soft music,"continued Thiebault, "till that when the good King himself appeared,grotesquely dressed in the character of King Solomon"----
"To whom, of all princes, he has the least resemblance," saidArthur----
"With such capers and gesticulations of welcome to the Queen of Shebaas, I am assured by those who saw it, would have brought a dead manalive again, or killed a living man with laughing. Among otherproperties, he had in his hand a truncheon, somewhat formed like afool's bauble"----
"A most fit sceptre for such a sovereign," said Arthur----
"Which was headed," continued Thiebault, "by a model of the JewishTemple, finely gilded and curiously cut in pasteboard. He managed thiswith the utmost grace, and delighted every spectator by his gaiety andactivity, excepting the Queen, who, the more he skipped and capered,seemed to be the more incensed, until, on his approaching her toconduct her to the procession, she seemed roused to a sort of frenzy,struck the truncheon out of his hand, and breaking through the crowd,who felt as if a tigress had leapt amongst them from a showman's cart,rushed into the royal courtyard. Ere the order of the scenicrepresentation, which her violence had interrupted, could be restored,the Queen again issued forth, mounted and attended by two or threeEnglish cavaliers of her Majesty's suite. She forced her way throughthe crowd, without regarding either their safety or her own, flew likea hail-storm along the streets, and never drew bridle till she was asfar up this same Mont St. Victoire as the road would permit. She wasthen received into the convent, and has since remained there; and avow of penance is the pretext to cover over the quarrel betwixt herand her father."
"How long may it be," said Arthur, "since these things chanced?"
"It is but three days since Queen Margaret left Aix in the manner Ihave told you.--But we are come as far up the mountain as men usuallyride. See, yonder is the monastery rising betwixt two huge rocks,which form the very top of Mont St. Victoire. There is no more openground than is afforded by the cleft, into which the convent of St.Mary of Victory is, as it were, niched; and the access is guarded bythe most dangerous precipices. To ascend the mountain, you must keepthat narrow path, which, winding and turning among the cliffs, leadsat length to the summit of the hill, and the gate of the monastery."
"And what becomes of you and the horses?" said Arthur.
"We will rest," said Thiebault, "in the hospital maintained by thegood fathers at the bottom of the mountain, for the accommodation ofthose who attend on pilgrims;--for I promise you the shrine is visitedby many who come from afar, and are attended both by man andhorse.--Care not for me,--I shall be first under cover; but theremuster yonder in the west some threatening clouds, from which yourseignorie may suffer inconvenience, unless you reach the convent intime. I will give you an hour to do the feat, and will say you are asactive as a chamois-hunter if you reach it within the time."
Arthur looked around him, and did indeed remark a mustering of cloudsin the distant west, which threatened soon to change the character ofthe day, which had hitherto been brilliantly clear, and so serene thatthe falling of a leaf might have been heard. He therefore turned himto the steep and rocky path which ascended the mountain, sometimes byscaling almost precipitous rocks, and sometimes by reaching their topsby a more circuitous process. It winded through thickets of wildboxwood and other low aromatic shrubs, which afforded some pasture forthe mountain goats, but were a bitter annoyance to the traveller whohad to press through them. Such obstacles were so frequent, that thefull hour allowed by Thiebault had elapsed before he stood on thesummit of Mont St. Victoir
e, and in front of the singular convent ofthe same name.
We have already said that the crest of the mountain, consistingentirely of one bare and solid rock, was divided by a cleft or openinginto two heads or peaks, between which the convent was built,occupying all the space between them. The front of the building was ofthe most ancient and sombre cast of the old Gothic, or rather, as ithas been termed, the Saxon; and in that respect corresponded with thesavage exterior of the naked cliffs, of which the structure seemed tomake a part, and by which it was entirely surrounded, excepting asmall open space of more level ground, where, at the expense of muchtoil, and by carrying earth up the hill, from different spots wherethey could collect it in small quantities, the good fathers had beenable to arrange the accommodations of a garden.
A bell summoned a lay brother, the porter of this singularly situatedmonastery, to whom Arthur announced himself as an English merchant,Philipson by name, who came to pay his duty to Queen Margaret. Theporter, with much respect, showed the stranger into the convent, andushered him into a parlour, which, looking towards Aix, commanded anextensive and splendid prospect over the southern and western parts ofProvence. This was the direction in which Arthur had approached themountain from Aix; but the circuitous path by which he had ascendedhad completely carried him round the hill. The western side of themonastery, to which the parlour looked, commanded the noble view wehave mentioned; and a species of balcony, which, connecting the twotwin crags, at this place not above four or five yards asunder, ranalong the front of the building, and appeared to be constructed forthe purpose of enjoying it. But on stepping from one of the windows ofthe parlour upon this battlemented bartizan, Arthur became aware thatthe wall on which the parapet rested stretched along the edge of aprecipice, which sank sheer down five hundred feet at least from thefoundations of the convent. Surprised and startled at finding himselfon so giddy a verge, Arthur turned his eyes from the gulf beneath himto admire the distant landscape, partly illumined, with ominouslustre, by the now westerly sun. The setting beams showed in dark redsplendour a vast variety of hill and dale, champaign and cultivatedground, with towns, churches, and castles, some of which rose fromamong trees, while others seemed founded on rocky eminences; othersagain lurked by the side of streams or lakes, to which the heat anddrought of the climate naturally attracted them.
The rest of the landscape presented similar objects when the weatherwas serene, but they were now rendered indistinct, or altogetherobliterated, by the sullen shade of the approaching clouds, whichgradually spread over great part of the horizon, and threatenedaltogether to eclipse the sun, though the lord of the horizon stillstruggled to maintain his influence, and, like a dying hero, seemedmost glorious even in the moment of defeat. Wild sounds, like groansand howls, formed by the wind in the numerous caverns of the rockymountain, added to the terrors of the scene, and seemed to foretellthe fury of some distant storm, though the air in general was evenunnaturally calm and breathless. In gazing on this extraordinaryscene, Arthur did justice to the monks who had chosen this wild andgrotesque situation, from which they could witness Nature in herwildest and grandest demonstrations, and compare the nothingness ofhumanity with her awful convulsions.
So much was Arthur awed by the scene before him, that he had almostforgotten, while gazing from the bartizan, the important businesswhich had brought him to this place, when it was suddenly recalled byfinding himself in the presence of Margaret of Anjou, who, not seeinghim in the parlour of reception, had stept upon the balcony, that shemight meet with him the sooner.
The Queen's dress was black, without any ornament except a goldcoronal of an inch in breadth, restraining her long black tresses, ofwhich advancing years and misfortunes had partly altered the hue.There was placed within the circlet a black plume with a red rose, thelast of the season, which the good father who kept the garden hadpresented to her that morning, as the badge of her husband's house.Care, fatigue, and sorrow seemed to dwell on her brow and herfeatures. To another messenger she would in all probability haveadministered a sharp rebuke, for not being alert in his duty toreceive her as she entered; but Arthur's age and appearancecorresponded with that of her loved and lost son. He was the son of alady whom Margaret had loved with almost sisterly affection, and thepresence of Arthur continued to excite in the dethroned Queen the samefeelings of maternal tenderness which had been awakened on their firstmeeting in the Cathedral of Strasburg. She raised him as he kneeled ather feet, spoke to him with much kindness, and encouraged him todetail at full length his father's message, and such other news as hisbrief residence at Dijon had made him acquainted with.
She demanded which way Duke Charles had moved with his army.
"As I was given to understand by the master of his artillery," saidArthur, "towards the Lake of Neufchatel, on which side he proposes hisfirst attack on the Swiss."
"The headstrong fool!" said Queen Margaret. "He resembles the poorlunatic, who went to the summit of the mountain that he might meet therain halfway.--Does thy father, then," continued Margaret, "advise meto give up the last remains of the extensive territories once thedominions of our royal house, and for some thousand crowns, and thepaltry aid of a few hundred lances, to relinquish what is left of ourpatrimony to our proud and selfish kinsman of Burgundy, who extendshis claim to our all, and affords so little help, or even promise ofhelp, in return?"
"I should have ill discharged my father's commission," said Arthur,"if I had left your Highness to think that he recommends so great asacrifice. He feels most deeply the Duke of Burgundy's grasping desireof dominion. Nevertheless, he thinks that Provence must, on KingRene's death, or sooner, fall either to the share of Duke Charles, orto Louis of France, whatever opposition your Highness may make to sucha destination; and it may be that my father, as a knight and asoldier, hopes much from obtaining the means to make another attempton Britain. But the decision must rest with your Highness."
"Young man," said the Queen, "the contemplation of a question sodoubtful almost deprives me of reason!"
As she spoke, she sank down, as one who needs rest, on a stone seatplaced on the very verge of the balcony, regardless of the storm,which now began to rise with dreadful gusts of wind, the course ofwhich being intermitted and altered by the crags round which theyhowled, it seemed as if in very deed Boreas, and Eurus, and Caurus,unchaining the winds from every quarter of heaven, were contending formastery around the convent of Our Lady of Victory. Amid this tumult,and amid billows of mist which concealed the bottom of the precipice,and masses of clouds which racked fearfully over their heads, the roarof the descending waters rather resembled the fall of cataracts thanthe rushing of torrents of rain. The seat on which Margaret had placedherself was in a considerable degree sheltered from the storm, butits eddies, varying in every direction, often tossed aloft herdishevelled hair; and we cannot describe the appearance of her nobleand beautiful, yet ghastly and wasted features, agitated strongly byanxious hesitation and conflicting thoughts, unless to those of ourreaders who have had the advantage of having seen our inimitableSiddons in such a character as this. Arthur, confounded by anxiety andterror, could only beseech her Majesty to retire before the fury ofthe approaching storm into the interior of the convent.
"No," she replied with firmness; "roofs and walls have ears, andmonks, though they have forsworn the world, are not the less curiousto know what passes beyond their cells. It is in this place you musthear what I have to say; as a soldier you should scorn a blast of windor a shower of rain; and to me, who have often held counsel amidst thesound of trumpets and clash of arms, prompt for instant fight, the warof elements is an unnoticed trifle. I tell thee, young Arthur Vere, asI would to your father--as I would to my son--if indeed Heaven hadleft such a blessing to a wretch forlorn"----
She paused, and then proceeded.
"I tell thee, as I would have told my beloved Edward, that Margaret,whose resolutions were once firm and immovable as these rocks amongwhich we are placed, is now doubtful and variable as the clouds w
hichare drifting around us. I told your father, in the joy of meeting oncemore a subject of such inappreciable loyalty, of the sacrifices Iwould make to assure the assistance of Charles of Burgundy, to sogallant an undertaking as that proposed to him by the faithfulOxford. But since I saw him I have had cause of deep reflection. Imet my aged father only to offend and, I say it with shame, to insultthe old man in presence of his people. Our tempers are as opposed asthe sunshine, which a short space since gilded a serene and beautifullandscape, differs from the tempests which are now wasting it. Ispurned with open scorn and contempt what he, in his mistakenaffection, had devised for means of consolation, and, disgusted withthe idle follies which he had devised for curing the melancholy of adethroned Queen, a widowed spouse--and, alas! a childless mother,--Iretired hither from the noisy and idle mirth, which was the bitterestaggravation of my sorrows. Such and so gentle is Rene's temper, thateven my unfilial conduct will not diminish my influence over him; andif your father had announced that the Duke of Burgundy, like a knightand a sovereign, had cordially and nobly entered into the plan of thefaithful Oxford, I could have found it in my heart to obtain thecession of territory his cold and ambitious policy requires, in orderto insure the assistance which he now postpones to afford till he hasgratified his own haughty humour by settling needless quarrels withhis unoffending neighbours. Since I have been here, and calmness andsolitude have given me time to reflect, I have thought on the offencesI have given the old man, and on the wrongs I was about to do him. Myfather, let me do him justice, is also the father of his people. Theyhave dwelt under their vines and fig-trees, in ignoble ease, perhaps,but free from oppression and exaction, and their happiness has beenthat of their good King. Must I change all this?--Must I aid inturning over these contented people to a fierce, headlong, arbitraryprince?--May I not break even the easy and thoughtless heart of mypoor old father, should I succeed in urging him to do so?--These arequestions which I shudder even to ask myself. On the other hand, todisappoint the toils, the venturous hopes of your father, to foregothe only opportunity which may ever again offer itself, of revenge onthe bloody traitors of York, and restoration of the House ofLancaster!--Arthur, the scene around us is not so convulsed by thefearful tempest and the driving clouds, as my mind is by doubt anduncertainty."
"Alas," replied Arthur, "I am too young and inexperienced to be yourMajesty's adviser in a case so arduous. I would my father had been inpresence himself."
"I know what he would have said," replied the Queen; "but, knowingall, I despair of aid from human counsellors--I have sought others,but they also are deaf to my entreaties. Yes, Arthur, Margaret'smisfortunes have rendered her superstitious. Know, that beneath theserocks, and under the foundation of this convent, there runs a cavern,entering by a secret and defended passage a little to the westward ofthe summit, and running through the mountain, having an opening to thesouth, from which, as from this bartizan, you can view the landscapeso lately seen from this balcony, or the strife of winds and confusionof clouds which we now behold. In the middle of this cavernousthoroughfare is a natural pit, or perforation, of great but unknowndepth. A stone dropped into it is heard to dash from side to side,until the noise of its descent, thundering from cliff to cliff, diesaway in distant and faint tinkling, less loud than that of a sheep'sbell at a mile's distance. The common people, in their jargon, callthis fearful gulf Lou Garagoule; and the traditions of the monasteryannex wild and fearful recollections to a place in itself sufficientlyterrible. Oracles, it is said, spoke from thence in pagan days, bysubterranean voices, arising from the abyss; and from these the Romangeneral is said to have heard, in strange and uncouth rhymes, promisesof the victory which gives name to this mountain. These oracles, it isaverred, may be yet consulted after performance of strange rites, inwhich heathen ceremonies are mixed with Christian acts of devotion.The abbots of Mont St. Victoire have denounced the consultation of LouGaragoule, and the spirits who reside there, to be criminal. But asthe sin may be expiated by presents to the Church, by masses, andpenances, the door is sometimes opened by the complaisant fathers tothose whose daring curiosity leads them, at all risks, and by whatevermeans, to search into futurity. Arthur, I have made the experiment,and am even now returned from the gloomy cavern, in which, accordingto the traditional ritual, I have spent six hours by the margin of thegulf, a place so dismal, that after its horrors even this tempestuousscene is refreshing."
The Queen stopped, and Arthur, the more struck with the wild tale thatit reminded him of his place of imprisonment at La Ferette, askedanxiously if her inquiries had obtained any answer.
"None whatever," replied the unhappy Princess. "The demons ofGaragoule, if there be such, are deaf to the suit of an unfortunatewretch like me, to whom neither friends nor fiends will afford counselor assistance. It is my father's circumstances which prevent myinstant and strong resolution. Were my own claims on this piping andpaltry nation of Troubadours alone interested, I could, for the chanceof once more setting my foot in merry England, as easily and willinglyresign them, and their paltry coronet, as I commit to the storm thisidle emblem of the royal rank which I have lost."
As Margaret spoke, she tore from her hair the sable feather and rosewhich the tempest had detached from the circlet in which they wereplaced, and tossed them from the battlement with a gesture of wildenergy. They were instantly whirled off in a bickering eddy of theagitated clouds, which swept the feather far distant into empty space,through which the eye could not pursue it. But while that of Arthurinvoluntarily strove to follow its course, a contrary gust of windcaught the red rose, and drove it back against his breast, so that itwas easy for him to catch hold of and retain it.
"Joy, joy, and good fortune, royal mistress!" he said, returning toher the emblematic flower; "the tempest brings back the badge ofLancaster to its proper owner."
"I accept the omen," said Margaret; "but it concerns yourself, nobleyouth, and not me. The feather, which is borne away to waste anddesolation, is Margaret's emblem. My eyes will never see therestoration of the line of Lancaster. But you will live to behold it,and to aid to achieve it, and to dye our red rose deeper yet in theblood of tyrants and traitors. My thoughts are so strangely poised,that a feather or a flower may turn the scale. But my head is stillgiddy, and my heart sick.--To-morrow you shall see another Margaret,and till then adieu."
It was time to retire, for the tempest began to be mingled withfiercer showers of rain. When they re-entered the parlour, the Queenclapped her hands, and two female attendants entered.
"Let the Father Abbot know," she said, "that it is our desire thatthis young gentleman receive for this night such hospitality as befitsan esteemed friend of ours.--Till to-morrow, young sir, farewell."
With a countenance which betrayed not the late emotion of her mind,and with a stately courtesy that would have become her when she gracedthe halls of Windsor, she extended her hand, which the youth salutedrespectfully. After her leaving the parlour, the Abbot entered, and,in his attention to Arthur's entertainment and accommodation for theevening, showed his anxiety to meet and obey Queen Margaret's wishes.
