The dark forest, through which the road lies for many miles, gives a grandeur to the scenery, of which this part of France is elsewhere almost entirely devoid. The broad Moorish towers of the château are seen for some time, alternately appearing, and then lost to sight, until finally they form the termination of the splendid avenue de Gâtines, through which they are beheld at a great distance, gradually rising in the perspective, and seeming to increase in size as the traveller draws near, with an effect almost magical. Nothing can be finer or more original than the appearance of these far-famed towers, which give to the building an air of oriental grandeur, perfectly unique. They were built at different periods, the first one having been added to the edifice, which at the time was already a mixture of Gothic and moyen age architecture, by M. de Luçay, on his return from his travels in the East, and their broad shining domes, surmounted by light gilt weathercocks, bring strangely to mind the mosques and palaces of the Asiatic cities.
The approach to the château is particularly grand and magnificent, being through an avenue of glorious old chestnut-trees, through which, at the moment of my arrival, the long rays of the evening sun were pouring, all aslant, over the green turf, making wide patches of the soft grass appear all on flame, while the shadows thrown between appeared black and mysterious from the contrast. The carriage drove up the noble avenue de Gâtines. The gay postillions, with long tricoloured ribbons fluttering in the wind, with plaited pigtail and heavy jack-boots, cracking their whips, with loud halloo, to cheer forward the wild, scampering, rope-harnessed horses, gave such an air de regence to the scene, that I could almost fancy myself, as I leaned eagerly forward in the carriage, to be the hero of one of Marivaux’s delightful novels, and to be some one of his dear ingenious Counts de P., about to pay his first visit to some fascinating, rebellious, unfaithful Marquise de F. or de N. Had such indeed been the case, I do not think the said hero could have felt more alarmed and embarrassed than I did during the few moments when the carriage, having turned into the great gates, drove with stunning fracas round the wide cour d’honneur, and stopped at the princely perron of the vestibule.
It was quite a relief to learn from the domestic, who conducted me, through an endless labyrinth of staircases and corridors, to my room, that the large party then assembled at the château had all dispersed after the usual early dinner, and that the building was at the moment a complete desert. Nothing could suit me better, for it gave me time to collect all my scattered ideas, and to establish myself in the great drawing-room, receiving not received; and all timid juveniles know well the full value of this difference. The view from the windows of this room was magnificent. An ancient and heavy cloister, forming a cool, shady piazza during the summer, and a dry and cheerful retreat in winter, lay immediately without, and through each arch the varied and rich landscape was enframed. The broad expanse of park, with its dark belt of forest beyond, and the little town of Valençay, with the Gothic spire of its church, and the white roofs glittering in the sun, by turns appeared, as I moved on, like the images in a child’s magic lantern.
In a short time, the various stragglers began to return from their walks, and I was delighted when, among the very first persons who greeted me, I recognised an old acquaintance, whom I had often seen in society during the prince’s embassy in London. Those who have ever felt the delight of finding an acquaintance in a strange land, and where we had anticipated meeting none but strangers, will readily believe my joy at being greeted in well-remembered accents by C., who became from that moment a valued and precious friend, more so than many whom I had known and loved from childhood, but who were now absent, and could afford me no aid in encountering the mighty leviathan within reach of whose tremendous jaws I seemed so thoughtlessly to have wandered.
With the kind assistance of this friend, however, I began, in a very short time, to regain my confidence, and, before the creaking of carriage-wheels upon the gravel without had announced the return of the Prince from his evening drive, I had been mis au courant of all the habitudes de la maison, and the station and character of each individual had been so fully laid down to me, that I now felt armed with too much foreknowledge to dread any longer the ignorance and inexperience which had so often been my worst enemies.
The room was wellnigh filled by the time the Prince had descended from his carriage, and, preceded by old Carlo, barking and yelping, had slowly traversed the wide vestibule. For such is the courtierlike propensity of human nature, that, although no warning-bell had summoned the different stragglers homeward, yet, by marvellous instinct, they all seemed aware of the very moment of the prince’s return to the château, and pressed eagerly to the saloon to receive him. There was a general advance towards the door when the prince entered, leaning on his gold-headed cane, and then the assembly divided in the midst, to allow him to pass through, to gain his large fauteuil by the fire. This movement gave an effect to his entrée, of indescribable interest. Altogether, it was one of the prettiest pieces of small-court ceremony I ever witnessed.
The conversation was carried on, for some little time, standing, the company separating in small groups; but, when lights were brought, and the prince had fairly taken his seat at the whist-table, the salon began, though gradually, to clear. Some of the guests retired to rest, in order to be abroad betimes on the morrow; some withdrew stealthily by a side door, and presently the noise of feet and the clattering of billiard-balls told plainly the reason of their absence; anon, another group would disappear, and then I was sure that a faint odour of cigars would blow in from the half-closed window. For me, I bravely resisted every invitation to move from the seat wherein I had so comfortably ensconced myself, being sufficiently occupied, this first evening, in making myself familiar with all the actors in the scene going on around me; and I was well repaid for my self-denial, for at that very moment were assembled, in that old courtly saloon, some of the brightest intellectual luminaries of the kingdom.
“You are fortunate,” exclaimed C., as he kindly came to take his seat beside me, “in being a guest with some of our most remarkable illustrations of the ancient régime—men who remain, few in number, to tell the generation of our day what is meant by the ‘wits’ and beaux esprits of a period which, although not distant, yet seems driven centuries back by the rapidity with which new eras, new societies, and new dynasties have succeeded each other. For instance,” continued he, “there is the Count de M.; I dare not call him the old count, although, were age measured by years alone, he would certainly be considered to have well earned the title. He is already past the threescore years and ten fixed by the great Psalmist as the term of man’s life, and yet here he is, more alive, more pungent, more racy than ever. I know of no greater contrast than that which exists between this man and our princely host.
“Look at them as they sit opposite to each other, both intent upon the chances of the game; the one so calm and dignified, reflecting almost tediously upon the card he ought to play; then placing it, slowly and deliberately, upon the table. Watch him for ever so long a time, you will detect no symptom of impatience, no gesture of disappointment, as the tricks are carried from the board by his rival. But seldom, even during a run of decided ill luck, have I seen him bite his pale lip slightly and in silence. Now, look at the count: see with what bitter merriment he shoves the cards towards his adversary—how the stinging gibe, the acid bon mots fall from his lips, each sufficient to ensure success to a whole act of a modern vaudeville—how he grasps the cards with impatient glee when they have fallen to his share—his keen eye lighting up, and his tall, thin figure rising in his chair, while he pours a burning torrent of witty pun and quolibet into the ear of his neighbour. There is more life in that man, in spite of his years, and the hard life he has led, than in a dozen of the poor, stunted jeunes Frances who surround him.
“The prince and M. are like two schoolboys, hating, dreading each other, yet each one feeling that the presence of the other is needed to bring out his own value; they are steel and flint, by turns giving and receiving blows, and sending up sparks which dazzle the listener and hold him entranced. The one, cold and reflective, could crush his tormentor, were he but allowed time and opportunity; while the other, by his great presence of mind, never at fault, and his brilliant and pungent satire, will sometimes cause his friend to writhe, even while he bears the same placid countenance and the same calm smile.