THE NEW MONTHLY BELLE ASSEMBLÉE. JULY, 1843. ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS, CONSISTING OF TALES, ROMANCES, ANECDOTES, AND POETRY. THE DANCE OF DEATH. A LEGEND. Ou a fine summer's afternoon about twenty years back an English traveller slowly emerged from one of those dense forests of Lower Brittany which skirt the departments of Morbihan and Finisterre. The country that met his view was in the highest state of cultivation; rich corn-fields and orchards were visible on every side, while large patches of buckwheat, with its pretty white flower, shone gaily in the bright sunshine. Peace and plenty smiled throughout this lovely valley, bounded and sheltered as it was from the northern and eastern blasts by a distant line of hills. Every thing was still and tranquil; the only sound that broke the universal silence being the gentle murmurs of a narrow but clear stream, as it rippled over its pebbly bed, and the evening song of the blackbird and thrush. The traveller gazed around with pleasure and admiration as he leisurely walked his horse along the winding road which his guide (a little ragged urchin hired on the other side of the forest) informed him led to the small town of Rostrenen, where he intended to pass the night. Occupied by the enjoyment of this beautiful prospect he suffered the time to pass unnoticed, until his young companion reminded him that the sun was setting, and there yet remained a ride of two hours before he could reach his destination, added to which the road would soon become more difficult; he was compelled to acknowledge the prudence of proceeding without further delay, and put his horse into a gentle trot. The route all at once made a sharp turn, and if the fertile scene he had just left had filled the Englishman with delight, that which now presented itself excited in the highest degree his astonishment. About forty feet back from the oad stood the ruins of a large pile of buildings, which appeared to have formerly consisted of a good-sized dwelling-house, with outhouses, cart-sheds, stables, and other appurtenances of a wealthy farmer's abode, though now fallen into one general decay. Here and there might be seen the remains of high old-fashioned fire-places, capable of containing three or four persons; while a quantity of broken articles of furniture were lying about mingled with heaps of stones, showing evidently that whatever might have caused such total destruction plunder could not have been the object. But the remarkable feature of the whole was the withered and blasted appearance of the land immediately surrounding the ruins. Not a vestige of vegetation was perceptible; the trees were leafless and blighted, and the grass scorched and dried up; even the weeds (the natural garb of the soil) were scanty and stunted in their growth, as if nature had denied to this spot of earth the spontaneous clothing she affords to all others. In front of the decayed building was an open gravelled space or area, in the corner of which a mound, formed of earth and loose stones, was observable. The ground near this was covered with deep foot-marks of various sizes, as if it had been hastily trodden by a great number of persons, and yet these did not bear the appearance of having been recently imprinted. The extraordinary barrenness of this place, surrounded as it was by the most fertile country, could not fail to awaken to the utmost the traveller's surprise. It stood alone, a plague-spot in the midst of beauty; and might secm, to a fanciful eye, as a locality meet for the rendezvous of demons during their midnight orgies. Turning to the boy, who acted as his guide, he was proceeding to enquire of him if he knew the history of this singular spectacle of desolation; but he paused on observing the little fellow was employed in crossing himself rapidly and repeatedly, his countenance all the while betraying unequivocal signs of fear. Aware of the numerous tales of superstition current among the credulous Bretons, the Englishman at once guessed that some idle tradition was connected with this remarkable spot; and while he inwardly smiled at the benighted ignorance of the native inhabitants, he could not but confess it to be a scene eminently calculated to give rise to legends of this kind in a land where superstition walks hand in hand with romance. But, independently of all this, he was really anxious B to hear some account of the reason why-where every other piece of ground was cultivated to the utmost extent of the labourer's power-this portion alone should be doomed to complete neglect. Seeing, however, the incapacity of his young guide to reply to his questions, and pitying his evident terror, he placed the boy behind him on the horse, and once more set off at a round pace. of the parish priests contenting themselves with merely forbidding such a pastime to be resorted to, while others, more zealous, narrowly watched their parishioners, to see that no infringement of the church's commands took place. It is above fifty summers ago since the wealthy proprietor of that dismal ruin, then a commodious farm-house of superior pretensions, prepared for the gathering in of his corn. The weather throughout the year had been most propitious, and the harvest promised to be more than usually abundant. Being the richest person of his class and station in that part of the country, and master of the largest portion of land, Prudmarre (such was his name) had of course the greatest number of labourers collected at his harvest-home of any farmer for miles round. To add to the gaiety of the present season his only daughter, a girl of considerable beauty, was to be united to the husband of her choice, and the nuptial rejoicings were to take place at the same time. An hour and a half's good riding brought him to Rostrenan, where, alighting at the best inn the town afforded, he soon found himself seated with several other persons at a comfortable supper. During the meal be gained the good will of “mine host" by repeatedly helping him to cider out of his own jug, and by sharing with him a bottle of Medoc. The conversation among the guests, who were mostly known to each other, so much related to their own affairs, that for some time no opportunity occurred of making the enquiries he wished; but as it grew later the visitors, one by one, took their departure, leaving only the landlord, our traveller, with his guide, and one other person, who The happy day at length arrived, and a sumplike himself was to pass the night at the inn. tuous feast was given on the occasion, to which all Knowing well the customs of the country the the neighbours and friends of the newly-wedded Englishman ordered a pint of brandy for the use pair were invited; the young people occupied of the little party, who lighting their pipes seated themselves with all kinds of pastoral sports, while themselves round the kitchen fire; and taking ad- the elders looked on and smiled, and amused vantage of the first pause he mentioned the road themselves and each other by recounting their own he had come, and asked the landlord if he had feats of strength and agility in bygone days. ever noticed the ruins which had so much attracted Nothing but harmony and good humour prevailed, his own attention. The landlord knew them well, and in the midst of the general rejoicing the hours but evidently disliked speaking on the subject; flew by unheeded. One thing alone was wanting perceiving his reluctance the traveller did not press to complete the festivities; to close the evening his questions, but quietly waited until a second with a dance was a wish at first slyly whispered glass of cognac should dispel the Breton's taciturn-among the young folks; at last it became so ity. Things presently happened just as he wished; openly expressed as to reach the ears of the heads warmed by what he had drunk, the landlord grew of the party. Now dancing was a recreation most more talkative, and, alluding of his own accord to positively forbidden by the curé of the parish in the ruins, asked his guest if he would like to hear which Prudmarre lived, who threatened the most their history. The latter replied in the affirmative, awful punishments to those who dared to indulge and, disregarding the shudderings of the boy, and in it. All this was well known to the wealthy the timid looks of the other, he commenced the donor of the entertainment, as well as to his guests, tale of which the following is the substance. and he therefore deemed it necessary to check the growing desire for this unlawful pastime. But the lads and lasses gathered round him in a body, headed by his blooming daughter, to beg his permission for the enjoyment of their favourite exercise, urging in behalf of their request the retired situation of the place, and consequently the little probability that existed of Monsieur le Curé knowing anything about the matter, more particularly as it would be to the interest of all concerned in it to keep silence. Persuaded at last by the united entreaties of this mirthful troop the good man gave his consent to finish the evening with a dance, which he did the more readily as he noticed the good-humoured smile with which his elder friends heard the petition. The general contentment was now at its height, till the pleasureseekers suddenly recollected they could not dance without music. Here was a new difficulty, for no one present possessed any kind of musical instrument; however, two of the young men volunteered to go to the next village, about half a league off, to secure the services of a working shoemaker, who was well known to be skilful on the violin. This proposal was joyfully agreed to, and the two The harvest-home in France, as is well known, is invariably celebrated by some kind of festival; dancing and music, with various athletic games, are the recreations generally adopted. A convenient spot near the house is selected for thrashing the corn, which operation immediately succeeds the gathering of it in. This place (called, in the language of the country, une aire neuve) is cleaned and swept with the nicest care previously to being used as a thrashing-floor, and the preparation of it for this purpose forms an important part of the husbandman's duties at this season. But although dancing had so great a share in the amusements of the French peasantry in general, yet in La Bretagne it was less in vogue than in other parts, the priesthood having endeavoured to abolish it by declaiming against it even from the pulpit, giving over to Satan all those who were hardy enough to participate in the unhallowed exercise.* This stern proceeding had more or less weight according as it was more or less strictly enforced; some Fact. envoys started on their errand, promising to lose no time. They had proceeded a couple of fields' lengths of their way, and were barely out of sight of the house, when they saw approaching them a venerable looking old man, with a snowy beard reaching almost to his waist. As he passed he saluted them with an air of kindness, and the young men could not help being struck with the mild yet dignified expression of his countenance. Curiosity induced them to turn in order to take a second look, and they then perceived something resembling a musical instrument appearing from under the long ample skirts of his coat. They at once concluded him to be some travelling musician, in search probably of a night's lodging. Nothing could be more fortunate; they overtook the old man, and made known to him their wishes that he should employ his musical talents at a house where he would be sure to meet with a hearty welcome and good treatment. He willingly complied with their desire, and the trio soon joined the expectant party, who received them with acclamations of delight. fell to decay, no one being found sufficiently hardy to inhabit it. The tale soon spread far and wide; all shunned the fatal place, and if by chance the benighted peasant found himself in the neighbourhood of this fearful catastrophe, he crossed him. self and fled. Such was the legend of the farm of Prudmarre, and although sober reason rejects the tale as improbable, yet to discover the veritable history of this singular ruin, encircled as it is by an eternal sterility, would be a curious subject of research for the inquisitive and speculative. It stands alone like a spirit of the past, mysterious and solitary, having nothing in common with surrounding objects. Stern, dreary, blighted, may it not be likened to the cold and withered heart, pierced by the shafts of misfortune, lonely in its plenitude of misery, which the winter's wind and the summer's sun are alike powerless to awaken from its numbing trance of sorrow? COME, DWELL IN MY COTTAGE! (BALLAD.) BY FLORENCE WILSON. Come, dwell in my cottage! beside the calm waters, With flowers that are thornless, our pathway shall strew. There, far from the crowd and life's fevering plea sures, Like the stream that flows past us, our lives shall glide on ; The old man's performances gave the most entire satisfaction; his instrument was of a peculiar form, such as they had never before seen, but the sounds emitted from it were highly sweet and sonorous. Such was the inspiriting power of his strains, that the aire neuve, a large space immediately in front of the house, was soon covered with dancers, and it was remarkable that those who once entered the circle seemed incapable of quitting it, but danced on with untiring vigour. Evening closed in, but no one appeared to bestow a thought upon the hour; the mirth and gaiety of these votaries of Terpsichore encreased; the music insensibly quickened; young and old alike felt its magic, till at last even the grey-headed and the feeble joined the ranks, and danced side by side with their grandchildren. Quicker and quicker played the musician, faster and faster moved the dancers; and though many of the number now suffered from fatigue, yet they pos- I'll dream of Romance, though its visions are sessed no power to release themselves from this extraordinary influence; spell-bound they continued to whisk round and round till many dropped from exhaustion, and were trampled to death by the feet of their companions. Still on they went, the wild music playing with unearthly rapidity, and the dancers wrought up to madness, whirling on, till one by one they fell and died; but how was the horror of this dance of death increased, as a sudden movement of the musician's garment revealed to the glazing eyes of his despairing victims the cloven foot! Heaps of dead bodies were next morning found on the aire neuve of Prudmarre's farm. But this was not all; marks of numberless footsteps were visible on the hard gravelly soil, plainly imprinted by no earthly power. The trees and shrubs in the vicinity of the spot were withered and scathed as if by lightning; the corpses were blackened, and already beginning to decay, while a strong smell of sulphur pervaded the atmosphere. The bodies were buried where they were found, without any of the church's rites. From that period the house Nor would we exchange for the miser's rich treasures An existence so blest, though to splendour unknown. shaded, And the sunlight of boyhood's gay morning is o'er ; And, though from thy heart girlhood's verdure has faded, The smile of Affection its bloom shall restore. Then, hie from the world and its fevering pleasures Like the stream that flows past us, our lives shall glide on ; Nor would we exchange for the miser's rich trea sures The world that Love makes us-unenvied, unknown. |