Part 51 (1/2)
”_Ch?teau de Beaujour, June 1865._--You will have heard from Auntie of our arrival in this fairy ch?teau.... I have heard much that is wonderful, but what is most striking is to watch the perfect simplicity of a life so gifted as Madame de Trafford's--the three virtues, Faith, Hope, and Charity, that faith which can move mountains, and with it great humility. Madame de Trafford is deeply interested in any details I give her of the last six years: she was really attached to Mama. Here, in her ch?teau, she saw that Mama was dying. She turned suddenly round to Mr. Trafford, who was here, and said, 'Ah! elle va mourir--sortons.' She could not bear it, and felt that she must go out into the open air.
”We shall be in London some time next week, with endless affairs to settle. I quite dread the lawyers' deeds, days and weeks of worry, never ending and still beginning.
”I think of you once more in your study, as if a new life were given you, and dear Aunt Augustus in her arm-chair, and everything bright and beautiful around you.”
Of this, her first visit to Beaujour, Esmeralda has left a few remarkable notes.
”_July 1865._--Madame de Trafford came off to receive us at Paris as soon as she heard we were on our way. Then, when she heard I was so ill at Dijon, she often telegraphed there four times a day to Auntie, to the master of the hotel, to every one, so that they thought at Dijon that I was quite 'une grande personage.' At last, when I was better, we went to Beaujour. Madame de Trafford sent to meet us at Blois, but not her own horses, because they were _trop vifs_. It was a long drive, though we went at a great pace, for Madame de Trafford had told the coachman he was to drive as fast as possible. At last, in the avenue of poplars, the ruts were so deep that I thought we should have been overturned. Beaujour is a large square house with wings to it. Madame de Trafford herself opened the door, with a handkerchief over her head. 'Ah! vous voil?,' she said, 'c'est bien; il y'a longtemps que je vous attends.'
”The lower part of the ch?teau is unfurnished and vast. This Madame de Trafford considers to represent chaos, the chaos of nations. On the upper floor, each room represents a nation. Where she considers there is something wanting to the nation, there is some piece of furniture wanting to the room. When she considers that a nation has too much, the room is over-crowded. Thus in England, Canada, Gibraltar, and Malta are _de trop_, but India she allows for.
”For us she had a whole suite of rooms newly furnished. I had a bedroom, boudoir, dressing-room, and bath-room, and Auntie had the same. They contained every possible luxury. My bed was the most delicious I ever slept in. Madame de Trafford's power of second-sight had enabled her to see exactly what I liked best.
”All morning we sat in Madame de Trafford's bedroom or mine, and in the evening in the sitting-rooms. All day she talked of the future of Europe. 'Je plane sur l'Europe,' she used to say; and, when she was about to see anything--'Mon second ?tre s'en va.'
”Madame de Trafford is frequently in conflict with the devil. At such moments she is perfectly awful--quite sublime in her grandeur.
She will repeat _sotto voce_ what he says to her, suggestions of pride, &c.,--and then, raising herself to her full height, in a voice of thunder will bid defiance to the evil spirit. She spoke of the many things in connection with herself which made people say she was mad, and said she did not feel it safe to have people to stay with her in consequence. I told her that this would be quite impossible, for that even in the week which I had spent with her, I had seen much which others never ought to have the opportunity of seeing and misjudging. She often spoke most severely of my faults, and said that I lived too much for myself. 'Prenez garde,' she said, 'que vous ne pa.s.siez pas par cette pet.i.te porte, que j'ai vue une fois.' This was the gate of h.e.l.l. She saw it in a most awful vision--the judged souls, 'qu'ils baissent leurs t?tes et pa.s.sent par cette pet.i.te porte.'
”One day the Cur? sent up word that the village procession was coming to the gates of the ch?teau. On such an occasion an altar is always expected to be prepared. There was a dreadful fuss and hurry, but it had to be done. A foundation of barrels was covered with coloured cloths, on this rose a higher platform, and on that the altar. Workmen were immediately employed to dig up trees and plant them around it, and Cl?mence was sent to the garden to dig up all the lilies she could find. When the procession arrived, all was ready and the people were delighted.”
During this and succeeding visits at Beaujour, Madame de Trafford dictated many remarkable pa.s.sages in her life to my sister. This she did walking up and down the room, often with her eyes flaming and her arms extended, as in a state of possession. At such times she would often break off her narration and suddenly begin addressing the spirit within her, which answered her in the strange voice, not her own, which sometimes came from her lips. Some of the stories she narrated at these times are of the wildest description, and are probably mere hallucinations, but a vein of truth runs through them all; and her complete biography, as I still preserve it, is a most curious doc.u.ment.
Almost all her stories are tinged by her enthusiasm for the Bonaparte family, with whom she had some mysterious connection. They are mingled with strange visions and prophecies, many of which have undoubtedly come true, and her second-sight caused her to foresee, and in one case to prevent, an attack on the life of Napoleon III. She was constantly occupied in works of benevolence--in fact, her whole life was a contest between good and evil. ”On joue sur moi,” she said, ”ce sont les bons et les mauvais esprits.” Sometimes, when Esmeralda happened to go suddenly into the room, she would find Madame de Trafford, with livid face and glaring eyes, in horrible personal conflict with an evil spirit--”Prince de cette terre, adore donc ton Cr?ateur et ton Dieu.” In a late Life of Jeanne Darc, whose early existence amongst spiritual influences is much like that of Madame de Trafford, Catherine de l'Armagnac, the great friend of Jeanne, is described as resembling her, and the observation is made that this extraordinary power remains in the Armagnac family still. Madame de Trafford was _n?e_ Martine Larmignac (de l'Armagnac).
But it was not only in Jeanne Darc that there was a similarity to the visions, the voices, the inspirations of Madame de Trafford: exactly the same appears in the histories of St. Bridget, St. Catherine of Siena, and Savonarola. The child-prophet Samuel also heard such voices calling to him.
In her ”Life,” Madame de Trafford says that she was brought up at Saumur, where spirits surrounded and talked to her in her childhood.
When she was hungry, she believed that they brought her food. She was starved and ill-treated by her nominal mother, but her nominal father was kind to her. She always loved the poor, and they loved her. She once stole a loaf to give to a poor family. She was dressed in the richest child's frocks and lace till she was seven years old, then they were taken away and poor clothes were given to her. In her solitary life at Saumur she fancied that every one else like herself talked to spirits....
To escape from a marriage with a French Count, and, as she believed, in obedience to the spirits, Martine Larmignac went with the family of Sharpe as governess to England. Here she eventually became the second wife of Mr. Trafford of Wroxham Hall in Norfolk, but even then she never expected happiness in her life. She said that a spirit announced to her before her marriage, ”Ton nom pour toi, ta fortune pour les autres, et _tu_ ne seras jamais heureuse.” She had two children by Mr. Trafford.
She foresaw the deaths of both by her second-sight, and had the agony of watching the fatal hour approaching even when they were well and strong.
During the Crimean war, Madame de Trafford went out to Constantinople with some Irish Sisters of Charity. She was with them during the earthquake which overwhelmed Broussa. At the moment when the Emperor Nicholas is supposed to have died, she alarmed those who were with her by starting up and in her fearful voice of prophecy exclaiming, ”Nicholas! arr?te toi! tu n'est pas mort: tu as disparu.” She always maintained that the Emperor did not die at the time at which his death was announced as having taken place.
One day Madame de Trafford was sitting in her room at Paris, when the spirit told her she was to go--not where she was to go, or why, but simply that she was to set off. She caught up her bonnet and shawl and bade her maid Annette (for she had servants then) to follow her. She went out: she walked: she walked on till she arrived at the railway-station for going to Lyons (Chemin de Fer de Lyon). She still felt she was to go on, but she did not know whither, so she said to the guard that she must pay for her ticket when she left the train, for she could not tell where she should get out. She went on till the railway came to an end, and the railway in those days came to an end at Toulon.
Then she got out and went to a hotel and ordered rooms for herself and her maid Annette, and dinner--for they were famished after the long journey. But still she felt restless: she was still convinced that she was not in the right place.
”J'avais arr?t? un appartement pour une semaine, mais une voix me dit, 'Pars,' et je savais qu'il y'avait du danger. Je fis appeler la ma?tresse de l'h?tel. Je lui dis, 'Je vous payerai tout ce que vous voulez, mais je dois partir. Faites attendre dix minutes la malle-poste pour Ma.r.s.eilles.' J'arrive ? Ma.r.s.eilles fatigu?e. Je me repose sur un lit. Il faisait d?j? nuit. J'appelais ma femme de chambre et je lui dis, 'Je veux sortir.' Je sors. J'avance. Je retourne. Ah, mon Dieu! qu'est ce que c'est? J'ai peur: je tremble: je ne sais pourquoi. 'Annette, suivez-moi,' je dis. J'avance encore. Je monte les rues ?troites de Ma.r.s.eilles. J'arr?te. Oh, mon Dieu! qu'est que c'est que je vois--une _rue_! Je ne puis plus avancer, mais qu'est que c'est cette rue? Je tourne: je monte la rue en fr?missant. 'Annette, suivez-moi.' J'arr?te. Je vois une maison--une fen?tre. La maison est ferm?e. C'est ici. Je m?sure la distance de cette maison ? la maison vis-?-vis. Une, deux, trois, quatre. La police me suivait. Ils soup?onnaient quelque chose, mais je disais, 'Qu'est que c'est que cela--une maison, une fen?tre?' La police entre dans la maison, dans cette fen?tre elle y trouva une machine infernale. Napoleon ?tait sauv?: il devait y pa.s.ser le lendemain.”
From her extraordinary powers of second-sight, supernatural gifts were attributed by ignorant persons, and to her own great distress, to Madame de Trafford. The poor around her, both in Touraine and at Paris, often implored her to heal their sick, insisting that she could do so if she would, for she had the power.
”J'allais ? la Madeleine un dimanche pour la messe. La fille de mon cocher avait ?te bien malade depuis longtemps. Je demandais ? mon cocher en descendant ? l'?glise comment se portait sa fille. 'Elle a demand? Madame de Trafford,' disait-il en pleurant, 'jusqu'? son dernier moment.'--'Comment, Florimond,' lui dis-je, 'que voulez vous dire?'--'Elle est morte,' disait il en sanglotant: 'elle est morte hier ? minuit.'--'Ah,' disais-je, et je descendais de la voiture. 'Florimond, pourquoi ne m'avez-vous pas fait appeler?'
J'entrais ? l'?glise, mais je ne pouvais rester tranquille. Je sentais que je ne pouvais rester pour la messe, et je sortis. Je remonte en voiture. 'Florimond, au grand trot,' lui dis-je, 'chez vous.'--'Chez moi, Madame,' dit-il; 'ah, il est trop tard; ah, si vous ?tiez venue plut?t, Madame, mais le pauvre enfant a d?j?
chang?,' et le pauvre homme pleurait; ah! combien il aimait cet enfant. Nous arrivons. Je descends vite. Je monte. J'entre. J'ouvre la porte. D?j? on avait plac? un linceul sur le corps de la jeune fille: on se preparait ? l'ensevelir. La m?re et la garde-malade ?taient dans la chambre. Je fis sortir la garde. J'approche le lit.
Je jette par terre chapeau et mantelle. Je l?ve le linceul. Ah! je n'avais jamais vu un mort: je ne puis vous dire l'eff?t que cela me fit. D?j? depuis si peu d'heures! Il avait treize heures qu'elle ?tait morte, et les levres ?taient serr?es: tout le contour de la bouche ?tait d?color?. Je m'approchais. 'Seigneur,' dis-je, 'je ne vous ai rien demand? jusqu'? ce jour: je vous demande aujourd'hui la vie de cet enfant. Oh, Seigneur, c'est la fille unique, rendez donc, je vous en supplie, rendez donc cette fille ? sa m?re.' Alors une voix d'un mauvais esprit me dit, 'Tu peux rendre la vie: tu as le pouvoir.' Mais je r?pondis, 'Moi, je ne puis rien, je ne suis rien; mais, Seigneur, vous avez le pouvoir, vous seul pouvez tout; rendez donc, je vous supplie, rendez donc cette fille ? sa m?re.'
Je pa.s.sais la main sur la figure de l'enfant: je le prends par la main. 'L?ve-toi,' lui dis-je, et la jeune fille se levait en sursaut! mais ses yeux ?taient encore ferm?s, et tout doucement elle dit ces paroles, 'Madame T.. r.. a.. fford.. je.. vais..
dormir.' Les couleurs revenaient tout doucement dans ses joues. Je me retournais ? la m?re: 'Votre fille dormait,' dis-je. Je quittais la maison. Je commandais qu'on lui donnait ? manger. 'Florimond,'