Part 6 (2/2)
The following is one of the lays of this famous Troubadour, whose songs are the earliest extant:
Anew I tune my lute to love, Ere storms disturb the tranquil hour, For her who strives my truth to prove, My only pride, and beauty's flower; But who will ne'er my pain remove, Who knows and triumphs in her power.
I am, alas! her willing thrall; She may record me as her own: Nor my devotion weakness call, That her I prize, and her alone: Without her can I live at all, A captive so accustom'd grown?
What hope have I?--Oh lady dear!
Do I then sigh in vain for thee; And wilt thou, ever thus severe, Be as a cloistered nun to me?
Methinks this heart but ill can bear An unrewarded slave to be!
Why banish love and joy thy bowers-- Why thus my pa.s.sion disapprove?
When, lady, all the world were ours If thou couldst learn, like me, to love.
CHAPTER IX.
MELUSINE--LUSIGNAN--TROU DE LA FeE--THE LEGEND--MALE CURIOSITY--THE DISCOVERY--THE FAIRY'S SHRIEKS--THE CHRONICLER--GEOFFROY OF THE GREAT TOOTH--JACQUES COEUR--ROYAL GRAt.i.tUDE--ENEMIES--JEAN DU VILLAGE--WEDDING--THE BRIDE--THE TRAGEDY OF MAUPRIER--THE GARDEN--THE SHEPHERDESS--THE WALNUT GATHERERS--LA GaTINE--ST.
MAIXANT--NIORT--MADAME DE MAINTENON--ENORMOUS CAPS--CHAMOIS LEATHER--DUGUESCLIN--THE DAME DE PLAINMARTIN--THE SEA.
FULL of anxiety to visit the famous Chateau of Lusignan--the very centre of romance and mystery--we left Poitiers in the afternoon, and, in two hours, reached the prettily-situated bourg on the banks of the river Vanne. We looked out constantly for the towers of the castle of Melusine, but none appeared. At last I descried a building on an eminence, which I converted at once into the object desired; but, as the rain had come on violently and the atmosphere was somewhat dull, I was not surprised that I did not obtain a better view of the turrets and donjon, which no doubt frowned over the plain beneath.
Our vehicle stopped in the middle of a very unpromising stony street, before a house which presented no appearance of an inn. Here, however, we were told that we were to alight; and, having done so in a somewhat disconsolate mood, for the storm had increased in violence, our baggage was to be disengaged from the huge pile on the top of the diligence, while we stood by to recognise it. The whole town, meantime, seemed to have arrived in this, the princ.i.p.al street; and a host of men in blouses paused round us, all looking with wonder on our arrival, apparently amazed at our absurdity in stopping at Lusignan; in which reflection we began to share, as they took possession of our trunks, and examined them without ceremony, while the conducteur searched his papers, in a sort of frenzy, to find our names inscribed, and convince himself that we were the persons named there as his pa.s.sengers. As we had only been ”set down” as ”Dames Anglaises,” he seemed inclined to dispute our ident.i.ty; and he, and a man who acted as post-master, conned over the paper together, while all the inhabitants who could get near endeavoured to catch a peep, not only at the scroll, but the suspected persons. At length, as we protested against lingering in the rain any longer, further enquiries were abandoned; the conducteur mounted his box; the post-master called porters; and the crowd made way for us, while we followed half-a-dozen guides, who made as much of their packages as they could; and we at last found shelter. The aspect of affairs now changed: a very neat landlady, and a smart waiting-maid, ushered us into a pretty, clean, decorated, raftered room,--the best in the Lion d'Or,--up a flight of tower stairs; our porters disappeared; the street was cleared; curiosity seemed amply gratified; and we were left to a good dinner, and in comfortable quarters. The sun broke forth, and all looked promising; but where were the towers of the castle?
This question we repeated frequently, and the answers a.s.sured us that _la haut_ we should see the castle and the ”_Trou Meluisin_.” We slept well in our snow-white beds; occasionally hearing, during the night, the cracked, hollow, unearthly sound of the great church bell of the Lusignans, to which an equally ghost-like voice on the stair replied. At day-break the noise of hilarity roused us, and we found that a rural meeting was taking place below, in the _grand salon_. Our friends of the day before seemed all met previous to setting out to begin the walnut gathering; and they uttered strange jocund sounds, more wolfish than human, without a word which could be, by possibility, construed into the French language.
We hurried up the rugged way which was to lead us to the castle; but, having reached the height, I rubbed my eyes, for I thought the fairy had been busy during the night, and, by a stroke of her wand, had swept away every vestige of the castle. Certain it was that not a stone was left,--not a solitary piece of wall or tower, to satisfy our curiosity!
A pretty little girl of fifteen, who had hurried after us, now approached, and offered to be our _guide_. We accepted her civility, as we hoped something would ensue: she led us to a heap of bushes, and, stooping down and pulling them aside, proclaimed to us, as she pointed to a dark chasm beneath, that we stood at the entrance of the ”Trou de la Fee.” ”This,” said she, ”is the hole which she used to enter, and it has a way which leads to the wood yonder: she could there rise up at her fountain, where she bathed; and from thence there is another way leading as far as Poitiers itself.” We asked her if the fairy ever appeared now; but she laughed, and said, contemptuously, ”Oh! no, that is all fable: it was a great while ago.” She had a tragical story of a soldier who descended, resolving to attempt the adventure; but he was never seen afterwards, as might easily be expected. She, however, accounted for his fate without attributing it to supernatural causes: the superst.i.tion of Melusine has disappeared with the turrets of her castle.
The church is curious, though very much defaced: in the sacristy is a circular-arched door, elaborately sculptured with the signs of the Zodiac; but the formerly-existing stones on which the effigy of the fairy appeared have been entirely swept away.
The castle of Lusignan was once one of the most beautiful and powerful _chateaux forts_ in France; so strong and so singular in its construction that it was attributed to an architect of a world of spirits,--the famous witch, or fairy, Melusine; about whom so much has been written and sung for ages, and who still occupies the attention of the curious antiquary. Her story may be thus briefly told:
She was married to the Sire Raymondin, of Poitiers; who, struck with her surpa.s.sing beauty, and aware of her great wealth and possessions, had won her from a host of suitors. He was, however, ignorant that her nature was different from that of others; and, when she informed him that, if she consented to be his wife, he must agree that she should, once a week, absent herself from him, and must promise never to attempt to penetrate the retreat to which she retired, he gave an unconditional a.s.sent. They had been married some time, and their happiness was complete; but at length Raymondin's mind began to be disturbed with uneasy thoughts, and the demon of curiosity took possession of him. His wife disappeared every week for a single day--some say Sat.u.r.day--and he had no idea where she went, or what she occupied herself about. Was it possible, thought he, that she had some other attachment? Could she be capable of deceiving his affection? Every time she returned to him she looked more lovely than ever; and there was a satisfaction in her aspect that was far from pleasing him. She never alluded to the circ.u.mstance of her retreat; but redoubled her tenderness and kindness to him; and, but for the growing and increasing anxiety he felt to know the truth, he might have been the happiest of men.
Melusine had, according to her wont, taken leave of him on the accustomed night of her retirement; and he found himself alone in his chamber. He mused, long and painfully, till he could endure his thoughts no longer; and, catching up his sword, he rushed to the tower, at the door of which he had parted with his mysterious lady. The door was of bronze, elaborately ornamented with strange carvings: it was thick and strong; but, in his frenzy of impatience, he did not hesitate to strike it violently with his sharp sword; and, in an instant, a wide cleft appeared, disclosing to him a sight for which he paid dear.
In the centre of the chamber he beheld a marble basin, filled with crystal water; and there, disporting and plunging, was a female form with the features of his wife. Her golden hair, in undulating waves, fell over her white bosom and shoulders, and rested on the edge of the basin, and on the surface of the water; her hands held a comb and a mirror; and in the latter she occasionally gazed intently as a series of figures pa.s.sed across it. Down to her waist it was Melusine; but below it was no longer the body of a woman, but a scaly marine monster, who wreathed a glittering tail in a thousand folds; das.h.i.+ng and casting the silver waves in every direction, and throwing a veil of s.h.i.+ning drops over the beautiful head above, till the walls and ceiling shone with the sparkling dew, on which an unearthly light played in all directions!
Raymondin stood petrified, without power to speak or move. An instant sufficed to disclose to him this unnatural vision; and an instant was enough to show the fairy that her secret was discovered. She turned her large l.u.s.trous eyes upon him, uttered a loud, piercing shriek, which shook the castle to its foundation, and all became darkness and silence.
The lord of the chateau pa.s.sed the rest of his life in penitence and prayer; but the lady was never afterwards seen by him.
She had not, however, abandoned her abode; and, always, from that time till within a few years, she returned whenever any misfortune threatened the family of Lusignan, screaming round the walls, and rustling with her serpent folds along the pa.s.sages, announcing the event. In 1575 the castle was razed, by order of the Duke de Moutpensier, and for several nights previous to its demolition, Melusine startled the country round with her piercing cries. It is even said that certain ancient women in Lusignan hear her occasionally; but we were not so fortunate as to meet with any who had been so favoured.
Bouchet, in his chronicle, acknowledges himself greatly puzzled to account for the legend of Melusine; for, though he does not hesitate to believe anything advanced by the Church, he does not feel bound to put entire faith in a book of romance. ”As for me,” he says, ”I think and conjecture, that the sons of Melluzine performed many fine feats of arms; but not in the manner related in the romance; for it must be recollected that at the period of 1200 were begun to be made many books, in gross and rude language, and in rhythm of all measure and style, merely for the pastime of princes, and sometimes for flattery, to vaunt beyond all reason the feats of certain knights, in order to give courage to young men to do the like and become brave; such are the said Romance of Melluzine, those of Little Arthur of Brittany, Lancelot du Lac, Tristan the Adventurous, Ogier the Dane, and others in ancient verse, which I have seen in notable libraries: the which have since been put into prose, in tolerably good language, according to the time at which they were written, in which are things _impossible to believe, but at the same time delectable to read_. But, in truth, all that romance of Melluzine is a dream, and cannot be supported by reason. You may see, in the said romance, that the children of Melluzine, Geoffrey la grande-dent, and Guion, and Raimondin, her husband, a native of Forez, were Christians, and that they fought against, and conquered, the Turks, and that the said Raimondin was nephew to a Count of Poictou, named Aymery, who had a son called Bertrand, who was count after him, and a daughter, Blanche. Now I have not been able to find in any history, letter, nor _pancarte_, _though I have carefully searched_, that, since the pa.s.sion of our Lord, there has been a duke or count in Poictou, called either Bertrand or Aymery; nor that there have been any such but what I have enumerated. And as for those events having happened before, it could not be; for there were then no Christians living, our Lord and Redeemer not being then on earth.”
The confused chronicler then proceeds to tell the whole serpent-story, hinting his suspicions that the lady was discovered by her husband to be unfaithful, and giving an etymology to her name, similar to one we heard on the spot, namely, that she was lady of _Melle_, a castle near.
Our village archaeologist added, however, that this castle was called Uzine, and as both belonged to her, she was so called, Melle-Uzine.
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