Virginie. A tale of one hundred years ago

Front matter

VIRGINIE VOL. I. VIRGINIE. A TALE OF ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. EY VAL PRINSEP, ASSOCIATE OP THE EOYAL ACADEMY. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 16th STREET. 1890. [All rights reserved.] Richard Ciat & Sons, Limited, London" & Eungay. CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. CHAP. PAOE I. THE COURONNE D'OR ... ... ... ... 1 II. CONCERNING JACQUES LE BLANC ... ... 12 III. FATHER AND DAUGHTER ... ... ... 32 IV. AN

Introduction

... ... ... ... 47 V. AT THE CONVENT OF THE VISITATION ... ... G2 VI. GAINING EXPERIENCE ... ... ... ... 75 VII. FIRST AWAKENING OF LOVE ... •. . . ... 88 VIII. SELF-SACKIFICE ... ... ... ... ... 105 IX. AT SEVRES ... .. ... ... ... 11G X. LA BEAUCE PATS A SECOND VISIT TO SEVRES ... 132 XI. HESITATION ... ... ... ... ... 150 XII. THE WIDENING RIFT ... ... ... ... 16G XIII. VIRGINIE MAKES UP HER MIND... ... ... 179 XIV. A VISIT TO VERSAILLES ... ... ... ... 192 XV. AN EVENTFUL DAY ... ... ... ... 202 XVI. A SAD AUTUMN ... ... ... ... ...*_' 1 4 XVII. JACQUES FOLLOWS THE KING TO PARIS ... ... l!l'4 VI CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE XVIII. VIRGINIE ••■ 234 XIX. THE ABBE LEROUX ... ... ... ... 248 XX. AT THE CHATEAU LA BEAUCE ... ... ... 259 XXI. LADY AND PEASANT ... ... ... ... 267 XXII. PETIT JEAN ... ... ... ... ... 283 XXIII. SEQUEL ... ... ... ... ... ... 301 XXIV. A PRESENTATION ... ... ... ... VIRGINIE.

Chapter I. The Couronne

D'oE In all the pleasant environs of the great city of Paris there is no pleasanterdooking place than the little town of Sevres. Situated about half way between the capital and the former abode of Royalty, Versailles, with the high-road between the two forming its long straggling O O CO O main street, in the pleasant summer the houses seem embowered in trees. For after you pass the old bridge across the Seine and ascend tbe long bill the woods of St. Cloud stretch for miles on the right hand, on the left those of Meudon. The road itself, though steep enough, is sunk between two higher eminences that rise VOL. I. B VIRGINIE. 2 on each side above even tbe tall old houses of the town. On the right, as you leave the river, lie the celebrated Royal Porcelain works, now Royal no longer. Higher up the bill, on the other side of the road, is a quaint, old-fashioned little church, on which is still to be seen the celebrated double L interlaced P^3) which formed the Royal monogram of Louis XA7., as though even the House of God required the mark that gives a priceless value to the porcelain of the time.

Though the houses of the little town are most of them the same now as they were a hundred years ago, the tawdry eating booths that now line the river's bank, where the Parisian Jules or Alphonse of to-day offers a Sunday dejeuner to the lady of his affections, did not exist, and the steep street was not smoothed by the art of the great Macadam, but was paved with irregular blocks of stone. At the entrance of the town, half way between the Porcelain works and the little church, on the left-hand side of the road coming from Paris, where now there is a large communal school, there stood a thriving hostelry, with its mighty sign swino*ing before its hospitable doors ; and as any one who had eyes, without knowing how to read or write (if he were a Frenchman), could tell, the name of that hostelry was the Couronne d'Or.

For such a crown was depicted on that sign as satisfied the wildest idea of the most imaginative, a crown on which the boys of Sevres firmly believed there was more gold than existed in the strong-boxes of all the shops in this town, or even for the matter of that in Versailles itself. The memory of man, in some things so very faulty, could not go back to the time when there had been no Couronne d'Or, and to the same dim past would the antiquarian have to wander to trace the connection between the mystic sign, the hostelry, and the family of Le Blanc. He who could read, and there were many such, could without difficulty decipher the name, also in gold, beneath the crown : 'Jacques le Blanc — Tralteur.' Whether it was from a love of tradition, or, perhaps, to render it useless to alter the sign in which they firmly believed, it is a fact that all male Le Blancs for several generations had VIRGINIE. 4 received the name of ' Jacques ' at the baptismal font, as the curious may discover by many an old tablet in the neighbouring church.

Sevres itself was not more proud of its cele brated Royal Porcelain manufactory than of its hostelry, at which those who passed between Paris and Versailles could procure an excellent change of horses, or, if they cared to linger on the way, first-class cheer and comfortable lodg ing. The ' Grand Alonarque ' himself in the good old days of his youth and success had more than once stopped before its door for a cup of wine, and Maitre le Blanc was wont to show with considerable pride the cup of pure silver which had been used bv the King. So well known was this silver tankard, that the fame of it reached the court of Louis XA7., and Aladame de Pompadour, one day driving through Sevres, persuaded her Royal lover to stop his coach as he was passing the Couronne d'Or and demand a cup of wine, as had done his Royal ancestor.

The Jacques le Blanc of the time, an old man, with tottering knees, brought forth the precious goblet. As he handed it to the courtier whose duty it was to place it in the Royal hands, he said — ' Sire, this cup, having been honoured by the use of your Alajesty's great-grandfather, has been ever since reserved for Royal lips.' "' Maitre le Blanc,' said the King, ' a cup so honoured should be sacred.' Then raising it, he added, 'A la Couronne d'Or,' and drank a hearty draught. ' Aly friend,' he observed, giving back the tankard (always through the hands of the obsequious courtier), ' let the crown protect the cup for the King's use,' and he pointed to the goodly sign that swung before the door. Maitre le Blanc saw traces of disappointment and displeasure on the painted face of La Pompa dour.

She had not been asked, as she had hoped, to partake of the Royal draught. As the good man bowed low on receiving his treasured goblet from the hands of the attendant lord, he heard the King remark lightly to the baffled favourite — ' Wert thou not athirst, ma chere ? If so, let us requisition the " Service of the Day."' What she answered Le Blanc did not catch. The door of the great coach shut with a bang, the steps were put up, and the huge vehicle, VIRGINIE. with its eight horses, lumbered over the uneven pavement of the main street of Sevres, followed by the coaches of the Royal retinue. Inside, report said, all was not peace. AVhen in the course of time it rolled up to the door of the chateau the courtiers remarked that the King passed from the coach into his palace without a word, and the favourite's eyes were red, even through her cosmetics.

The cup was kept un tainted, but King Louis came no more to the Couronne d'Or. Since that day it had been the fashion for all the great nobles to stop at the celebrated ion. For in these things men, and especially courtiers, are like sheep. AVhen the bell-wether jumps over an obstacle the whole flock will leap in the same place even though the obstacle be removed. So the great bell-wether of society having drunk at the Couronne d'Or, Due and Alarquis, Comte and A7iscomte, all thought it their duty to slake their thirst at the same place. The fashion continued long after the original actors were departed. For now the monarch had chanced, and two generations of Le Blancs had followed their august sovereigns to another world, in which, they were told, but hardly dared believe, king and subject would be equal — and still the Couronne d'Or flourished.

AVhat mattered the troubles of this year 1789? People went to Versailles and returned to Paris whether M. de Maurepas or AI. de Calonne or Al. l'Archeveque were in office. Nay, the more changes the greater number of travellers ; since every fresh change brought with it a host of new hopes, new aspirations, new men. The road from Paris to Versailles came over yon old bridge and up the street of Sevres past the Couronne d'Or, and gay gentlemen and gayer ladies still sought favour at the fountain-head of honours, where now ruled Louis XVI., most excellent of men, and Alarie Antoinette, gayest and most fantastic of queens. Sevres was, therefore, right to be proud of its Couronne d'Or — a long pile of buildings, on the Paris side the inn proper, on the side towards Versailles the vast range of stables comfortably hid behind a long wall.

Everything — inn, stables, and wall — wore a well-to-do, thriving look ; the windows bright and clean, the very stones carefully whitewashed, contrasting favourably with its neighbours, where many panes were wanting in the dirty casements, their place VIRGINIE. supplied with paper or rag, and wdiere the walls too often showed the mark of neglect and age, time with ravaging hand having torn down the plaster, and supplied its place with its own favourite covering — moss, lichen, and mildew. So Maitre le Blanc was a much-envied man as he stood there at his door, now gazing w*ith indolent pride at his well-known sign, and now glancing with keen business eye up the street towards Versailles, or down the street across the bridge towards Paris, on the look-out for custom. A tall, stout man, with ruddy face and eyes that twinkled with good-humour when pleased, but one whose temper was of the hottest and whose tongue w*as of the sharpest when he was con tradicted or put out.

Ill fared it with a servant of the Couronne d'Or if Maitre Jacques caught him or her remiss in their duties, for a notable man was he, careful of his own interests. Spotless was his white cap, spotless his white coat, spotless his linen apron tied neatly over his well-to-do paunch. In the girdle was stuck his sharp-pointed knife that glistened spotless in the bright Alay sun. In fact, from his white bonnet to his neatly-stockinged legs and buckled shoes, he was the beau ideal of a landlord who was not above his work, but gloried in his reputation as a ' Cordon Bleu,' who could serve up as good a dinner as any man in Paris. ' Tiens, Rousselet,' he cried to a passer-by with a clear voice and merry laugh of greeting, ' how goes it with thee, my friend 1 ' The passer-by, a dapper, neatly-dressed man, a good deal younger than ' mine host,' but whose thin, seamed face made him look older than he really was, stopped opposite the speaker and lifted his hat to wipe his heated forehead. ' Not well,' he grumbled ; ' our friends yonder,' nodding his head in the direction of Versailles, ' get ever deeper in the mire.' ' Thou art too much of a politician, friend Rousselet,' laughed the jolly Jacques ; ' to every dish its proper seasoning.

Thou canst not make a piece de resistance of ortolans, or a souffle of the best haunch that ever came off fat buck, therefore what business is it of ours what they do at the chateau ? It is their duty to look after the State, as it is thine to paint pretty pots and vases, and mine to keep things going at the Couronne d'Or. Amateurs spoil the best dishes. VIRGINIE. 10 As in the cuisine, so in politics. You must know your ingredients before you can produce anything passable. No, no,' he added, senten tiously shaking his fat face, ' let them be and live quietly, that's my receipt.' ' Ah,' answered the other, ' live as w*e can, till die we must. Thou and the majority so believe and will believe till you are roughly wakened.' ' Thou art ever so,' cried Jacques. ' 'Tis thy liver, or thy spleen, thy inner man, that causes thee discontent.

I, God be praised, am of a happy disposition, and care not that,' here he showed the smallest possible part of his fat thumb, ' for any one, provided I am left alone. Comest thou this evening to have thy say out, friend Rousselet ? ' asked he, breaking off in what he had thought he could make a fine pre text for a speech, on catching sight of some custom coming from Versailles. ' Yes, I come,' said Rousselet, ' a bientot, my friend,' and with his usually sour expression he went his way. Passing up the street he saw two brightly-clad young men clatter by on horse back and draw rein at the door of the Couronne d'Or. Jacques, cap in hand, was ready to hold their stirrups as they alighted, and, bowing, showed them the way into the house. ' Fool,' grumbled Rousselet ; ' he thinks those gay sparks come to partake of his cuisine,' and he drew his hat tight on his head and clenched his fists as he went on his way.

Chapter II. Concerning Jacques Le Blanc

AIaItre Jacques deceived himself when he said he had no care for any one. In that he was not singular. AVho can truthfully say this ? AVhat man that lives is so independent of his fellows ? Yet we are all fond of bragging of our independence, hoping thereby to deceive the world as we do deceive ourselves. It is a game in which the player knows no one will call on him to make good the amount of the stakes, and so he can, and generally does, raise them at his leisure. AVho has not played it, with infinite satisfaction to himself? Jacques le Blanc had one absorbing, engross ing care — his daughter. Twenty years before our worthy host had been chef de cuisine in a very noble family, and had there fallen in love with Virginie Potier, who was a kind oi protegee of his noble mistress, half lady's maid, half companion, expected to be always in attendance on her mistress, and treated with humiliating condescension by the titled frequenters of the house.

A7irginie was a singularly attractive woman. She was therefore exposed to the insulting advances of every man, young or old, who claimed the privileges without troubling himself with the responsibilities of the noblesse. Being set above them, she incurred the displeasure of the upper servants, who formed a class and kept a table of their own. The meek ness with which she performed her duties had often been noticed by Jacques, whose generous nature was revolted by the insults that were heaped upon her, and when some of his fellow servants talked lightly one day of Virginie, Jacques not only gave them the lie, but threat ened them with personal castigation if ever he heard a w*ord to her discredit. As Jacques was a stout and very strong man, who had already proved his prowess on more than one occasion, he succeeded in silencing his fellows, at least in his presence.

His chivalrous conduct, distorted by passing through several unsympathetic chan nels, in due time reached the ears of one of the family, who straightway spread the tale and even VIRGINIE. ventured to twit the cold and disdainful A^irginie with her conquest of the amorous chef. So the generous sympathy of her almost unknown admirer became a means of additional humilia tion, but it also afforded a strange consolation to the solitary girl to know that there was one man who disinterestedly took her part, and was ready to fight her battles. Unconsciously she smiled on Jacques, who for his part ceased not to admire, never dreaming that mademoiselle could possibly entertain any feeling towards him but gratitude of that kind to be repaid by a passing smile or a kind word. At length, Jacques overheard two of the members of the noble family laughing at the pretensions of the cook and slightingly coupling his name with hers.

To treat these young sprigs of nobility as he would have treated one of his equal was not to be thought of in those days, when a deep line, separated the bourgeoisie from the noblesse. Yet he would not allow, for one moment, this woman, whom he humbly admired, to suffer from his presence at the chateau. He therefore at once demanded an interview of Aladame la Alarquise, who ruled over the establishment of the Alarquis de Boissec, and whose patronage had maintained A7irginie in the house. On permission being granted, Jacques boldly entered the noble presence, cap in hand. The Alarquise was sitting as usual at her em broidery; by her side sat her pretty companion, book in hand. Virginie, who had risen on Jacques' appearance, would have left the room, had not madame detained her. ' Stay where thou art, child,' said the grande dame pettishly, without even turning a look in the direction of Jacques. ' AVhat is it you would wish to say, Le Blanc ? ' ' Madame, I demand pardon for intruding,' said Jacques hesitatingly, twisting his cap in his hands; 'I have come to request madame to search for my successor.' ' AVhat ! ' cried the Marquise, turning towards him her keen eyes for the first time. ' Impos sible !

AVe are quite satisfied with your talents. AVe have never been better served. I must insist on your remaining.' This fine lady was greatly addicted to the pleasures of the table, and, though she prided herself on her extreme elegance and refinement, viewed the satisfving of her somewhat jaded appetite as the principal occupation of her day. ' Still,' said Jacques, ' I am forced to demand VIRGINIE. 16 that madame would deign to accord me permission to retire from her service.' ' Nonsense,' cried the Marquise. ' Sit still, child, why do you fidget ? — Nonsense, Le Blanc. It is some question of salary. Alonsieur will, no doubt, at my request, consent ' 'Pardon,' interrupted Jacques, 'if monsieur doubled my salary I could not stay.' ' AVhat excuse have you for this conduct ? ' asked the Marquise, striving to restrain her temper. ' I am not at liberty to say, madame.

I am not dissatisfied with my place. The service of Alonsieur le Marquis has been a pleasure to me, and madame herself has been kind enough to commend my humble efforts. Yet, madame, being a free man, I demand permission to leave.' Madame la Marquise grew pale with rage — perhaps it was partly consternation, for what person, male or female, can afford to lose the gratification of a favourite pleasure, especially when they have reached that time of life when pleasures are few ? ' Virginie,' she cried, ' knowest thou anything of this ? I insist on knowing, girl. Sit not there with that innocent smile on thy lips. Is what I have heard true ? Has this man dared ' ' Madame, madame,' interrupted Jacques, im ploringly, 'be not unjust, and you, mademoiselle, pardon me for the insults I have innocently brought upon you.' ' AVhat impertinence ! ' screamed the Marquise. ' Believe me, mademoiselle,' continued Jacques, paying no attention to his irate mistress, ' it was to spare you the reproaches I hear have been heaped upon you on my account that I have made up my mind to go.

I have done my best to give the lie to these reports. Madame la Marquise has herself showed me that the-y have reached even her ears. Let me then leave, that mademoiselle may regain the favour of madame. AVhat am I, or the likes of me, that the happiness of such a lady should be one moment disturbed ? ' The Marquise had been speechless with rage. ' Leave the room,' she cried, ringing the bell violently ; ' I'll have you turned out of my house. And thou, wretch ! ' turning to Virginie, ' go to thy own room and wait there till I determine what shall be done w*ith thee.' But Virginie, who had risen from her low chair, stood pale and still a moment. Then to vol. i. o VIRGINIE. the great lady's astonishment she walked to Jacques le Blanc and took him by the hand. ' Vou are a brave man,' she said in a low voice, ' and a generous man.

You are leaving here— you shall not go alone. Take me with you. Among these, in this family, I receive nothing but distrust or insult ; with you I shall be safe from both. Let me then go with you, if you care for one so helpless and friendless as I am.' La Alarquise was dumb w*ith astonishment, and even Jacques was so taken aback and be wildered that he stood speechless. The groom of the chambers entered the room. The lady pointed to the pair. ' Baptiste ! ' she shouted, ' have those two turned out of the house at once. — Shameless girl ! is it for this I have treated thee as an equal all these years ? Thou and thy paramour shall pack together this instant. — AVhy do you stand there like a fool ? ' she cried to the servant. ' Turn them out, I say.' But Jacques had recovered himself. ' Aladame,' he said, ' need be under no anxiety as to our departure.

Mademoiselle Virginie is under my protection now, and please God she shall not repent of her choice.' He offered his arm to the girl, 'and bowing with the air of a grand seigneur he left the room with A^irginie. Thus Jacques le Blanc won his wife. He took her home to his father, the host of the Cou ronne d'Or, successor to the gray-haired Le Blanc of the Louis XV. episode, himself now past the prime of life, and husband and wife were soon absorbed with the business, which on the death of the father devolved on Jacques. Before this event occurred a daughter had been born to the tw*o, whom thev called A7irginie after the mother. This little one was idolized by her parents. How they marked her dawning intelligence, noting with pride each first laugh, first recog nition, first crow* of delight, as though there had never been a baby in the world before !

AVhen the child learnt to walk Aladame le Blanc would sit during the summer in the garden pretending to work, while she watched the tiny thing at play ; and Jacques would thrust his honest face through the window, unmind ful of pot and saucepan, and make grotesque and comical noises to attract his daughter's VIRGINIE. 20 attention. There never were two people more happy. Jacques was so proud of his wife, of her beauty, her superior intelligence — nay, even of her being his wife — that his sharp temper became quite changed under her benign influence and his quick tongue forgot to scold. Madame le Blanc was content with the worship of this simple, honest fellow, whose every effort was to please her. Alas ! their happiness lasted but too short a time. AVhen the httle A7irginie was seven years old, Madame le Blanc died.

Hers was a pain less death, a cpiiet fading away, till the time when her last breath was so faint that the moment of her final passing away was unper ceived by those around. Prostrated with grief, it was long before poor Jacques recovered him self sufficiently to discharge his ordinary duties. Little Virginie was his sole comfort. AVith her he seemed to live in the society of his lost wife. Yet, poor man, he had faithfully promised she should not be brought up at the Couronne d'Or. Aladame le Blanc, a woman of superior educa tion, was anxious her daughter should receive more advantages than were ordinarily afforded to women of her class. She had an elder sister who was a nun in a convent at Chartres, with whom she had already carried on a correspond ence as to the education of her daughter.

It was to this convent, to which was attached an excellent school, that Jacques had promised to send his little girl. It was a dreadful grief for him to lose her. He would be doubly bereft without wife or child. It was as death to him. But the faithful fellow never for one instant dreamed of breaking his promise. Within six months of the death of his wife he started with his daughter for Chartres. He prattled with the child all the long hours of the journey, and when they arrived in the afternoon of a fine August day at the door of the convent, when they actually stood in the parlour, and he handed over to his sister-in-law, who was called La Mere Sainte Ursule, her little niece, the brave fellow could still smile. ' Adieu, my little Virginie,' he said, some what huskily ; ' these good ladies will make thee a pious and good woman like — like thy mother ' — here at length he broke down, but turning to the sister he added apologetically, ' See you, she has but so lately been gone ; ' then, having vigorously blown his nose, he tenderly kissed his VIRGINIE. 22 little girl, and, laying his hand on her head, left the room.

It was only when the great door of the convent swung behind him that he fairly broke down. He stood in the golden twilight and leant his head against the cold wall that kept him from his little girl. ' Thy will be done,' he murmured. AVas it her will, or the mightier will of the Ruler of the universe ? The angels of heaven, if they looked dowm on him, w*ould have forborne to inquire. Jacques le Blanc returned home heart-broken. The Couronne d'Or would have been a misery to him, lonely as he was, had he not had an object for which to live and work. He was too un selfish to let his own feelings master him w*here the welfare of his child and the fulfilment of his promise to his departed wife were concerned. So he set to work with a stout heart to put by crown upon crown for his little girl. AVhat did his loneliness matter when she was happy and contented ?

AVhat if her education were ex pensive since his wife had wished it ? He had no doubt in the wisdom of her judgment. He was content to wait. Only once a year he made a pilgrimage to Chartres to see his dear one ; and, as he found year by year she was growing into womanhood, his heart filled with pride. Alas ! it was not unmixed with anxiety. ' Ma foi,' he said to himself, as he turned away from the convent gates when his daughter was a tall girl of fifteen, ' my Virginie is a beauty. Not one of those I see going up to Court — no, not even the Queen herself — is to be compared to her. She shall want for nothing. Jacques le Blanc, she will find, is no pauper, and will pay a pretty dot for his daughter. But where shall I find a man fitting her ? ' His brow clouded as he thought of the people who frequented the Couronne d'Or, and the danger she would be exposed to even under a father's eye.

AVhat a responsibility ! Ah, well ! the time was far off yet. But the time approached. He had originally intended she should leave the convent on her seventeenth birthday, but as that day drew near she had begged to remain a little longer. She had made some pleasant friends at the convent, and they iuvited her to visit them. Nothing loth, Jacques agreed to her request, for he was not ready to receive his daughter. Reminded by her letter of the flight of time, wdiich he VIRGINIE. 24 like many other busy men was apt to forget, he set to work to furnish a little suite of rooms for her, far from the public part of the inn, where she would not be disturbed. Never was a lover more particular in arranging for the comfort of his beloved. Everything that he could purchase pretty or dainty he placed there.

In his choice he was much aided by his friend Rousselet, who was one of the artists employed in the neigh bouring Royal Porcelain manufactory. Of late years this man had become intimate at the Couronne d'Or. He had listened time after time to the story Jacques was only too glad to tell of his marriage and of his misfortunes. He had heard all that Jacques knew of his daughter, her beauty, her amiability, and her goodness, and now that this daughter was coming home, many a consultation the two had together as to the furnishing of these rooms, and much good advice did Rousselet give, till at last he became as keen about it as Jacques himself. At length towards the end of autumn Jacques received a letter from his daughter, in which she informed him that her visits were at an end, and that she was ready to come home. ' For,' she said, ' I feel, my dearest father, that I have too long neglected you, and have determined to devote myself for the future to your happiness.