He had undertaken to produce, upon rather a limited space, the gardens of Isaure, as they are described in Astrée: "That enchanted spot was all fountains and flower-beds, avenues and noble trees."—The great forest which formed such a charming labyrinth was represented by a labyrinthine thicket wherein he had forgotten neither the square of hazel-trees, nor the fountain of the verity of love, nor the cavern of Damon and Fortune, nor the den of old Mandrague.
All these things seemed exceedingly childish to Monsieur d'Alvimar, but not so utterly ridiculous as they would seem to us to-day.
Monsieur de Bois-Doré's monomania was sufficiently prevalent in his day not to be considered eccentric. Henri IV. and his court devoured Astrée, and in the petty German courts even princes and princesses assumed the resounding names that the marquis imposed upon his servants and his animals. The extreme popularity of Monsieur d'Urfé's romance lasted two centuries; it touched and charmed Jean-Jacques Rousseau; nor must we forget that, on the eve of the Terror, the skilful engraver Moreau still introduced in his works ladies named Chloris, and gentlemen named Hylas and Cidamant. But these illustrious names were borne, in the engravings and in the romance, by imaginary marquises; while the new shepherds were called Colin or Colas. Only a short step had been taken toward the real; the shepherds and shepherdesses were not improved; from being heroic they had become obscene.
D'Alvimar, wishing to obtain an idea of the surrounding country, walked through the hamlet, which consisted of about a hundred hearth-stones and was literally situated in a hole. It is so with many of those old places. When they are not powerful enough to perch proudly and threateningly upon some precipitous height, they seem to cower designedly in the valleys, as if to avoid the eyes of marauding bands.
The locality is, however, one of the most charming in Lower Berry. The gravelled roads leading thither are hard and clean at all seasons. Two pretty little streams form a natural defence, which may have been turned to advantage long ago for Cæsar's camp.
One of these streams fed the moats of the château; the other flowed through two small ponds below the village.
The Indre, which is near at hand, receives these streams and hurries them along a narrow valley, cut by sunken roads, heavily shaded, and running through unenclosed, untilled land of wild aspect.
You must expect to find not grandeur but charm, in that little desert, where virgin fields, thickets, wild grasses, genesta, heather and chestnut trees encompass you on all sides.
On the bank of the Indre, which becomes a brook as you ascend toward the source, wild flowers grow in a profusion most delightful to see.[13] The placid, transparent stream has torn apart the fields that blocked its path, and formed islets of verdure whereon trees grow vigorously. Standing too close together to be imposing, they extend an arch of foliage over the water.
The ground is fertile around the village. Magnificent walnuts and a large number of tall fruit trees make it a very nest of verdure.