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diff --git a/old/8734-h.htm.2021-01-28 b/old/8734-h.htm.2021-01-28 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7316d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8734-h.htm.2021-01-28 @@ -0,0 +1,5112 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + East of Paris, by Miss Betham-edwards + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of East of Paris, by Matilda Betham-Edwards + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: East of Paris + Sketches in the Gâtinais, Bourbonnais, and Champagne + +Author: Matilda Betham-Edwards + + +Release Date: August, 2005 [EBook #8734] +This file was first posted on August 5, 2003 +Last Updated: November 1, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EAST OF PARIS *** + + + + +Text file produced by Carlo Traverso, Debra Storr, Sandra Brown, +Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + EAST OF PARIS + </h1> + <h3> + SKETCHES IN THE GÂTINAIS, BOURBONNAIS, AND CHAMPAGNE + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Miss Betham-Edwards + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> INTRODUCTORY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> EAST OF PARIS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. — MELUN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. — MORET-SUR-LOING. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. — BOURRON. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. — BOURRON—<i>continued</i>. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. — BOURRON—<i>continued.</i> + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. — LARCHANT. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. — RECLOSES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. — NEMOURS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. — LA CHARITÉ-SUR-LOIRE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. — POUGUES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. — NEVERS AND MOULINS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. — SOUVIGNY AND SENS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. — ARCIS-SUR-AUBE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. — ARCIS-SUR-AUBE—(<i>continued</i>). + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. — RHEIMS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. — RHEIMS—(<i>continued</i>). + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. — SOULAINES AND BAR-SUR-AUBE. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. — ST. JEAN DE LOSNE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. — NANCY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. — IN GERMANISED LORRAINE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. — IN GERMANISED ALSACE. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + INTRODUCTORY. + </h2> + <p> + I here propose to zig-zag with my readers through regions of Eastern + France not described in any of my former works. The marvels of French + travel, no more than the <i>chefs-d’oeuvre</i> of French literature, are + unlimited. Short of saluting the tricolour on Mont Blanc, or of echoing + the Marseillaise four hundred and odd feet underground in the cave of + Padirac, I think I may fairly say that I have exhausted France as a + wonder-horn. But quiet beauties and homely graces have also their + seduction, just as we turn with a sense of relief from “Notre Dame de + Paris” or “Le Père Goriot,” to a domestic story by Rod or Theuriet, so the + sweet little valley of the Loing refreshes after the awful Pass of + Gavarni, and soothing to the ear is the gentle flow of its waters after + the thundering Rhône. Majestic is the panorama spread before our eyes as + we pic-nic on the Puy de Dôme. More fondly still my memory clings to many + a narrower perspective, the view of my beloved Dijon from its vine-clad + hills or of Autun as approached from Pré Charmoy, to me, the so familiar + home of the late Philip Gilbert Hamerton. If, however, the natural marvels + of France, like those of any other country, can be catalogued, French + scenery itself offers inexhaustible variety. And so, having visited, + re-visited, and re-visited again this splendid hexagon on the European + map, I yet find in the choice of holiday resorts a veritable <i>embarras + de richesses</i>. And many of the spots here described will, I have no + doubt, be as new to my readers as they have been to myself—<i>Larchant</i> + with its noble tower rising from the plain, recalling the still nobler + ruin of Tclemcen on the borders of the Sahara—<i>Recloses</i> with + its pictorial interiors and grand promontory overlooking a panorama of + forest, sombre purplish green ocean unflecked by a single sail—<i>Moret</i> + with its twin water-ways, one hardly knows which of the two being the more + attractive—<i>Nemours</i>, favourite haunt of Balzac, memoralized in + “Ursule Mirouët”—<i>La Charité</i>, from whose old-world dwellings + you may throw pebbles into the broad blue Loire—<i>Pougues</i>, the + prettiest place with the ugliest name, frequented by Mme. de Sévigné and + valetudinarians of the Valois race generations before her time—<i>Souvigny</i>, + cradle of the Bourbons, now one vast congeries of abbatial ruins—<i>Arcis-sur-Aube</i>, + the sweet riverside home of Danton—its near neighbour, <i>Bar-sur-Aube</i>, + connected with a bitterer enemy of Marie Antoinette than the great + revolutionary himself, the infamous machinator of the Diamond Necklace. + These are a few of the sweet nooks and corners to which of late years I + have returned again and again, ever finding “harbour and good company.” + And these journeys, I should rather say visits, East of Paris led me once + more to that sad yearning France beyond the frontier, to homes as French, + to hearts as devoted to the motherland as when I first visited the annexed + provinces twenty years ago! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + EAST OF PARIS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. — MELUN + </h2> + <p> + Scores upon scores of times had I steamed past Melun in the Dijon express, + ever eyeing the place wistfully, ever too hurried, perhaps too lazy, to + make a halt. Not until September last did I carry out a long cherished + intention. It is unpardonable to pass and re-pass any French town without + alighting for at least an hour’s stroll! + </p> + <p> + Melun, capital of the ancient Gatinais, now chef-lieu of the Department of + Seine and Marne, well deserves a visit. Pretty as Melun looks from the + railway it is prettier still on nearer approach. The Seine here makes a + loop, twice curling round the town with loving embrace, its walls and old + world houses to-day mirrored in the crystal-clear river. Like every other + French town, small or great, Melun possesses its outer ring of shady + walks, boulevards lying beyond the river-side quarters. The place has a + busy, prosperous, almost metropolitan look, after the village just left. + {Footnote: For symmetry’s sake I begin these records at Melun, although I + halted at the place on my way from my third sojourn at Bourron.} The big, + bustling Hotel du Grand Monarque too, with its brisk, obliging landlady, + invited a stay. Dr. Johnson, perhaps the wittiest if the completest John + Bull who ever lived, was not far wrong when he glorified the inn. “Nothing + contrived by man,” he said, “has produced so much happiness (relaxation + were surely the better word?) as a good tavern.” Do we not all, to quote + Falstaff, “take our ease at our inn,” under its roof throwing off daily + cares, assuming a holiday mood? + </p> + <p> + A survey of the yard awoke another train of reflections. It really seems + as if the invention of the motor car were bringing back ante-railway days + for the tourist and the travelling world, recalling family coach and + post-chaise. The place was crowded with motor cars of all shapes and + sizes, some of these were plain, shabby gigs and carts of commercial + travellers, others, landaus, waggonettes and victorias of rich folks + seeing the world in their own carriage as their ancestors had done + generations before; one turn-out suggested royalty or a Rothschild, I was + about to say, rather I should name a Chicago store-keeper, since American + millionaires are the Haroun-el-Raschids of the twentieth century. This + last was a sumptuously fitted up carriage having a seat behind for + servants, accommodating eight persons in all. There was also a huge box + for luggage. It would be interesting to know how much petroleum, + electricity, or alcohol such a vehicle would consume in a day. The + manufacture of motor cars must be a very flourishing business in France, + next, I should say, to that of bicycles. Of these also there was a goodly + supply in the entrance hall of the inn, and the impetus given to travel by + both motor car and bicycle was here self-evident. The Hotel du Grand + Monarque literally swarmed with tourists, one and all French folks taking + their ease at their inn. And our neighbours do not take their pleasure + solemnly after the manner of the less impressionable English. Stay-at-home + as they have hitherto been, home-loving as they essentially are, the + atmosphere of an inn, the aroma of a holiday, fill the Frenchman’s cup of + hilarity to overflowing, rendering gayer the gayest. + </p> + <p> + The invention and rapidly spreading use of the motor car in France shows + the French character under its revolutionary aspect, yet no people on the + face of the earth are in many respects so conservative. We English folks + want a new “Where is it?” for social purposes every year, the majority of + our friends and acquaintances changing their houses almost as often as + milliners and tailors change the fashion in bonnets and coats. A single + address book for France supplies a life-time. The explanation is obvious. + For the most part we live in other folks’ houses whilst French folks, the + military and official world excepted, occupy their own. Revisit provincial + gentry or well-to-do bourgeoisie after an interval of a quarter of a + century, you always find them where they were. Interiors show no more + change than the pyramids of Egypt. Not so much as sixpence has been laid + out upon new carpets or curtains. Could grandsires and granddames return + to life like the Sleeping Beauty, they would find that the world had stood + still during their slumber. + </p> + <p> + Melun possesses perhaps one of the few statues that may not be called + superfluous, and I confess I had been attracted thither rather by memories + of its greatest son than by its picturesque scenery and fine old churches. + The first translator of Plutarch into his native tongue was born here, and + as we should expect, has been worthily commemorated by his fellow + citizens. A most charming statue of Amyot stands in front of the grey, + turreted Hôtel de Ville. In sixteenth century doctoral dress, loose + flowing robes and square flat cap, sits the great scholiast, as intently + absorbed in his book as St. Jerome in the exquisite canvas of our own + National Gallery. + </p> + <p> + Behind the Hôtel de Ville an opening shows a small, beautifully kept + flower garden, just now a blaze of petunias, zinnias, and a second crop of + roses. Long I lingered before this noble monument, one only of the many + raised to Amyot’s memory, of whom Montaigne wrote:— + </p> + <p> + “Ignoramuses that we are, we should all have been lost, had not this book + (the translation of Plutarch) dragged us out of the mire; thanks to it, we + now venture to write and to discourse.” + </p> + <p> + And musing on the scholar and his kindred, a favourite line of Browning’s + came into my mind— + </p> + <p> + “This man decided not to live but to know.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed the whole of “A Grammarian’s Funeral” were here appropriate. Is it + not men after this type of whom we feel + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Our low life was the level’s and the night’s. + He’s for the morning”? +</pre> + <p> + To my surprise I found the church of St. Aspais locked. A courteous + hair-dresser thereupon told me that all churches in Melun were closed from + noon till half past one, but that, as noon had only just struck, if I were + brisk I might possibly catch the sacristan. After a pretty hot chase I + succeeded in finding a deaf, decrepit, dingy old man who showed me round + the church, although evidently very impatient for his mid-day meal. He + informed me that this closing of churches at Melun had been necessitated + of late years by a series of robberies. From twelve till half past one + o’clock no worshippers are present as a rule, hence the thieves’ + opportunity. Unfortunately marauders do not strip beautiful interiors of + the tinselly gew-gaws that so often deface them; in this respect, however, + St. Aspais being comparatively an exception. Alike within and without the + proportions are magnificent, and the old stained glass is not marred by + modern crudities. I do not here by any means exhaust the sights of this + ancient town, from which, by the way, Barbizon is now reached in twenty + minutes, an electric tramway plying regularly between Melun and that + famous art pilgrimage. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. — MORET-SUR-LOING. + </h2> + <p> + The valley of the Loing abounds in captivating spots, Moret-sur-Loing + bearing the palm. Over the ancient town, bird-like broods a majestic + church, as out-spread wings its wide expanse of roof, while below by + translucent depths and foliage richly varied, stretch quarters old and + new, the canal intersecting the river at right angles. Lovely as is the + river on which all who choose may spend long summer days, the canal to my + thinking is lovelier still. Straight as an arrow it saunters between + avenues of poplar, the lights and shadows of wood and water, the sunburnt, + stalwart barge folk, their huge gondoliers affording endless pictures. + Hard as is undoubtedly the life of the rope tower, rude as may appear this + amphibious existence, there are cheerful sides to the picture. Many of + these floating habitations possess a fireside nook cosy as that of a + Parisian concierge, I was never tired of strolling along the canal and + watching the barge folk. One day a friend and myself found a large barge + laden with coal at the head of the canal, the huge dark framework and its + sombre burden lighted up with touches of grace and colour. At the farther + end of the vessel was hung a cage of canaries, at the other end was a + stand of pot-flowers, geraniums and petunias in full bloom and all the + more brilliant by virtue of contrast. A neighbour of the bargeman, a + bright, intelligent woman, brown as a gipsy but well-spoken and of tidy + appearance, invited us to enter. Imagine the neatest, prettiest little + room in the world, parlour, bedchamber and kitchen in one, every object so + placed as to make the most of available space. On a small side-table—and + of course under such circumstances each article must be sizable—stood + a sewing machine, in the corner was a bedstead with exquisitely clean + bedding, in another a tiny cooking stove. Vases of flowers, framed + pictures and ornamental quicksilver balls had been found place for, this + bargewoman’s home aptly illustrating Shakespeare’s adage—“Order + gives all things view.” The brisk, weather-beaten mistress now came up, no + little gratified by our interest and our praises. + </p> + <p> + “You ladies would perhaps like to make a little journey with me?” she + asked, “nothing easier, we start to-morrow morning at six o’clock for + Nevers, you could take the train back.” + </p> + <p> + Never perhaps in our lives had myself and my companion received an + invitation so out of the way, so bewilderingly tempting! And we felt too, + with a pang, that never again in all probability should we receive such + another. But on this especial day we were not staying at Moret, only + running over for the afternoon from our headquarters at Bourron. + Acceptance was thus hemmed round with small impediments. And by way of + consolation, next morning the glorious weather broke. A downpour recalling + our own lakeland would anyhow have kept us ashore. + </p> + <p> + “Another time then!” had said the kind hostess of the barge at parting. + She seemed as sorry as ourselves that the little project she had mooted so + cordially could not be carried out. + </p> + <p> + The Loing canal joins the Seine at Saint Mammes, a few kilomètres lower + down, continuing its course of thirty kilomètres to Bleneau in the Nièvre. + Canal life in Eastern France is a characteristic feature, the whole region + being intersected by a network of waterways, those <i>chemins qui marchent</i>, + or walking roads as Michelet picturesquely calls them. And strolling on + the banks of the canal here you may be startled by an astonishing sight, + you see folks walking, or apparently walking, on water. Standing bolt + upright on a tiny raft, carefully maintaining their balance, country + people are towed from one side to the other. + </p> + <p> + These suburban and riverside quarters are full of charm. The soft reds and + browns of the houses, the old-world architecture and romantic sites, tempt + an artist at every turn. And all in love with a Venetian existence may + here find it nearer home. + </p> + <p> + A few villas let furnished during the summer months have little lawns + winding down to the water’s edge and a boat moored alongside. Thus their + happy inmates can spend hot, lazy days on the river. + </p> + <p> + Turning our backs on the canal, by way of ivy-mantled walls, ancient mills + and tumbledown houses, we reach the Porte du Pont or Gate of the Bridge. + With other towns of the period, Moret was fortified. The girdle of walls + is broken and dilapidated, whilst firm as when erected in the fourteenth + century still stand the city gates. + </p> + <p> + Of the two the Porte du Pont is the least imposing and ornamental, but it + possesses a horrifying interest. In an upper storey is preserved one of + those man-cages said to have been invented for the gratification of Louis + XI, that strange tyrant to whose ears were equally acceptable the shrieks + of his tortured victims and the apt repartee of ready-witted subjects. + </p> + <p> + “How much do you earn a day?” he once asked a little scullion, as + incognito he entered the royal kitchen. + </p> + <p> + “By God’s grace as much as the King,” replied the lad; “I earn my bread + and he can do no more.” + </p> + <p> + So pleased was the King with this saying that it made the speaker’s + fortune. + </p> + <p> + We climb two flights of dark, narrow stone stairs reaching a bare chamber + having small apertures, enlargements of the mere slits formerly admitting + light and air. The man-cage occupies one corner. It is made of stout oaken + ribs strongly bound together with iron, its proportions just allowing the + captive to lie down at full length and take a turn of two or three steps. + De Commines tells us that the cage invented by Cardinal Balue, and in + which he languished for eleven years, was narrower still. An average sized + man could not stand therein upright. + </p> + <p> + The bolts and bars are still in perfect order. Nothing more brings home to + us the abomination of the whole thing than to see the official draw these + Brobdingnagian bolts and turn these gigantic keys. The locksmith’s art was + but too well understood in those days. By whom and for whom this living + tomb was made or brought hither local records do not say. + </p> + <p> + From a stage higher up a magnificent panorama is obtained, Moret, old and + new, set round with the green and the blue, its greenery and bright river, + far away its noble aqueduct, further still looking eastward the valley of + the Loing spread out as a map, the dark ramparts of Fontainebleau forest + half framing the scene. + </p> + <p> + The town itself is a trifle unsavoury and unswept. Municipal authorities + seem particularly stingy in the matter of brooms, brushes and water-carts. + Such little disagreeables must not prevent the traveller from exploring + every corner. But the real, the primary attraction of Moret lies less in + its historic monuments and antiquated streets than in its <i>chemins qui + marchent</i>, its ever reposeful water-ways. Like most French towns Moret + is linked with English history. Its fine old church was consecrated by + Thomas à-Becket in 1166. Three hundred years later the town was taken by + Henry V., and re-taken by Charles VII. a decade after. Not long since five + hundred skulls supposed to have been those of English prisoners were + unearthed here; as they were all found massed together, the theory is that + the entire number had surrendered and been summarily decapitated, methods + of warfare that have apparently found advocates in our own day. + </p> + <p> + Most visitors to Paris will have had pointed out to them the so-called + “Maison François Premier” on the Cour La Reine. This richly ornate and + graceful specimen of Renaissance architecture formerly stood at Moret, and + bit by bit was removed to the capital in 1820. A spiral stone staircase + and several fragments of heraldic sculpture were left behind. Badly placed + as the house was here, it seems a thousand pities that Moret should have + thus been robbed of an architectural gem Paris could well have spared. + </p> + <p> + My first stay at Moret three years ago lasted several weeks. I had joined + friends occupying a pretty little furnished house belonging to the + officiating Mayor. We lived after simplest fashion but to our hearts’ + content. One of those indescribably obliging women of all work, came every + day to cook, clean and wait on us. Most of our meals were taken among our + flower beds and raspberry bushes. The only drawback to enjoyment may at + first sight appear unworthy of mention, but it was not so. We had no + latchkey. Now as every-one of all work knows, they are constantly popping + in and out of doors, one moment they are off to market, the next to warm + up their husbands’ soup, and so on and so on. As for ourselves, were we + not at Moret on purpose to be perpetually running about also? Thus it + happened that somebody or other was always being locked out or locked in; + either Monsieur finding the household abroad had pocketed the key and + instead of returning in ten minutes’ time had lighted upon a subject he + must absolutely sketch then and there; or Madame could not get through her + shopping as expeditiously as she had hoped; or their guest returned from + her walk long before she was due; what with one miscalculation and + another, now one of us had to knock at a neighbour’s door, now another + effected an entrance by means of a ladder, and now the key would be wholly + missing and for the time being we were roofless, as if burnt out of house + and home. Sometimes we were locked in, sometimes we were locked out, a + current “Open Sesame” we never had. + </p> + <p> + But no “regrettable incidents” marred a delightful holiday. Imbroglios + such as these only leave memories to smile at, and add zest to + recollection. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. — BOURRON. + </h2> + <p> + Two years ago some Anglo-French friends joyfully announced their + acquisition of a delightful little property adjoining Fontainebleau + forest. “Come and see for yourself,” they wrote, “we are sure that you + will be charmed with our purchase!” A little later I journeyed to Bourron, + half an hour from Moret on the Bourbonnais line, on arriving hardly less + disconcerted than Mrs. Primrose by the gross of green spectacles. No trim, + green verandahed villa, no inviting vine-trellised walk, no luxuriant + vegetable garden or brilliant flower beds greeted my eyes; instead, + dilapidated walls, abutting on these a peasant’s cottage, and in front an + acre or two of bare dusty field! My friends had indeed become the owners + of a dismantled bakery and its appurtenances, to the uninitiated as + unpromising a domain as could well be imagined. But I discovered that the + purchasers were wiser in their generation than myself. Noticing my + crestfallen look they had said:— + </p> + <p> + “Only wait till next year, and you will see what a bargain we have made. + You will find us admirably housed and feasting on peaches and grapes.” + </p> + <p> + True enough, twelve months later, I found a wonderful transformation. That + a substantial dwelling now occupied the site of the dismantled bakery was + no matter for surprise, the change out of doors seemed magical. Nothing + could have looked more unpromising than that stretch of field, a mere bit + of waste, your feet sinking into the sand as if you were crossing the + desert. Now, the longed-for <i>tonnelle</i> or vine-covered way offered + shade, petunias made a splendid show, choice roses scented the air, whilst + the fruit and vegetables would have done credit to a market-gardener. + Peaches and grapes ripened on the wall, big turnips and tomatoes brilliant + as vermilion took care of themselves. It was not only a case of the + wilderness made to blossom as the rose, but of the horn of plenty filled + to overflowing, prize flowers, fruit and vegetables everywhere. For the + soil hereabouts, if indeed soil it can be called, and the climate of + Bourron, possess very rare and specific qualities. On this light, dry + sand, or dust covering a substratum of rock, vegetation springs up all but + unbidden, and when once above ground literally takes care of itself. As to + climate, its excellence may be summed up in the epithet, anti-asthmatic. + Although we are on the very hem of forty thousand acres of forest, the + atmosphere is one of extraordinary dryness. Rain may fall in torrents + throughout an entire day. The sandy soil is so thorough an absorbent that + next morning the air will be as dry as usual. + </p> + <p> + This house reminded me of a tiny side door opening into some vast + cathedral. We cross the threshold and find ourselves at once in the + forest, in close proximity moreover to its least-known but not least + majestic sites. We may turn either to right or left, gradually climbing a + densely wooded headland. The first ascent lands us in an hour on the + Redoute de Bourron, the second, occupying only half the time, on a spur of + the forest offering a less famous but hardly less magnificent perspective, + nothing to mar the picture as a whole, sunny plain, winding river and + scattered townlings looking much as they must have done to Balzac when + passing through three-quarters of a century ago. + </p> + <p> + This eastern verge of the Fontainebleau forest is of especial beauty; the + frowning headlands seem set there as sentinels jealously guarding its + integrity, on the watch against human encroachments, defying time and + change and cataclysmal upheaval. Boldly stands out each wooded crag, the + one confronting the rising, the other the sinking sun, behind both massed + the world of forest, spread before them as a carpet, peaceful rural + scenes. + </p> + <p> + I must now describe a spot, the name of which will probably be new to all + excepting close students of Balzac. The great novelist loved the valley of + the Loing almost as fondly as his native Touraine; and if these pastoral + scenes did not inspire a <i>chef d’oeuvre</i>, they have thereby immensely + gained in interest. “Ursule Mirouët,” of which I shall have more to say + further on, is not to be compared to such masterpieces as “Eugénie + Grandet.” But a leading incident of “Ursule Mirouët” occurs at Bourron—a + sufficient reason for recalling the story here. + </p> + <p> + The beauty of our village, like the beauty of French women, to quote + Michelet, “is made up of little nothings.” There are a hundred and one + pretty things to see but very few to describe. Who could wish it + otherwise? Little nothings of an engaging kind better agree with us as + daily fare than the seven wonders of the world. With forty thousand acres + of forest at our doors we do not want M. Mattel’s newly discovered + underground river within reach as well. + </p> + <p> + From our garden we yet look upon scenes not of every day. Those sweeps of + bluish-green foliage strikingly contrasted with the brilliant vine remind + us that we are in France, and in a region with most others having its + specialities. Asparagus, not literally but figuratively, nourishes the + entire population of Bourron. Everyone here is a market gardener on his + own account, and the cultivation of asparagus for the Paris markets is a + leading feature of local commerce. + </p> + <p> + There is no more graceful foliage than that of this plant, and gratefully + the eye rests upon these waves of delicate green under a blazing, + grape-ripening sky. Making gold-green lines between are vines, a + succession of asparagus beds and vineyards separating our village from its + better known and more populous neighbour, Marlotte. In the opposite + direction we see brown-roofed, white-walled houses surmounted by a pretty + little spire. This is Bourron. To reach it we pass a double row of + homesteads, rustic interiors of small farmer or market gardener, the one, + as our French neighbours say, more picturesque than the other. Each, no + matter how ill kept, is set off by an ornamental border, zinnias, + begonias, roses and petunias as obviously showing signs of care and + science. Oddly enough the finest display of flowers often adorns the least + tidy premises. And oddly enough, rather perhaps as we should expect it, in + not one, but in every respect, this French village is the exact opposite + of its English counterpart. In England every tenant of a cottage pays + rent, there, not an inhabitant, however poor, but sits under his own vine + and his own fig-tree. In England the farm-house faces the road and the + premises lie behind. Here manure-heap, granary and pig styes open on the + highway, the dwellings being at the back. In England a man’s home, called + his castle, is no more defended than the Bedouin’s tent. Here at nightfall + the small peasant proprietor is as securely entrenched within walls as a + feudal baron in his moated château. In England ninety-nine householders + out of a hundred are perpetually changing their domicile. Here folks live + and die under the paternal roof that has sheltered generations. Nor does + diversity end with circumstances and surroundings. As will be seen in + another chapter, habits of life, modes of thought and standards of duty + show contrasts equally marked. + </p> + <p> + Bourron possesses twelve hundred and odd souls, most of whom are peasants + who make a living out of their small patrimony. Destined perhaps one day + to rival its neighbour Marlotte in popularity—even to become a + second Barbizon—it is as yet the sleepiest, most rustic retreat + imaginable. The climate would appear to be not only anti-asthmatic but + anti-everything in the shape of malady. Anyhow, if folks fall ill they + have to send elsewhere for a doctor. Minor complaints—cuts, bruises + and snake bites—are attended to by a Fontainebleau chemist. Every + day we hear the horn of his messenger who cycles through the village + calling for prescriptions and leaving drugs and draughts. + </p> + <p> + A post office, of course, Bourron possesses, but let no one imagine that a + post office in out of the way country places implies a supply of postage + stamps. English people are the greatest scribblers by post in the world, + whilst our wiser French neighbours appear to be the laziest. An amusing + dilemma had occurred here just before my arrival. One day my friends + applied to the post office for stamps, but none were to be had for love or + money. Off somebody cycled to Marlotte, which possesses not only a post + and telegraph, but a money order office as well—same reply, next the + adjoining village of Grez was visited and with no better result—“Supplies + have not yet reached us from headquarters,” said the third postmistress. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps instead of smiling contemptuously we should take a moral to heart. + The amount of time, money, eyesight and handcraft expended among ourselves + on letter writing so-called is simply appalling. Was it not Napoleon who + said that all letters if left unanswered for a month answered themselves? + Too many Englishwomen spend the greater portion of the day in what is no + longer a delicate art, but mere time-killing, after the manner of + patience, games of cards and similar pastimes. + </p> + <p> + Bourron is a most orderly village; within its precincts liberty is not + allowed to degenerate into licence. As in summer-time folks are fond of + spending their evenings abroad, a municipal law has enforced quiet after + ten o’clock. Thus precisely on the stroke of ten, alike café, garden, + private summer-house or doorstep are deserted, everyone betakes himself + indoors, leaving his neighbours to enjoy unbroken repose. A most salutary + by-law! Would it were put in force throughout the length and breadth of + France! At Chatouroux I have been kept awake all night by the gossip of a + <i>sergeant de ville</i> and a lounger close to my window. At Tours, La + Châtre and Bourges my fellow-traveller and myself could get no sleep on + account of street revellers, whilst at how many other places have not + holiday trips been spoiled by unquiet nights? All honour then to the + aediles of dear little Bourron! + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. — BOURRON—<i>continued</i>. + </h2> + <p> + Forty thousand acres of woodland at one’s doors would seem a fact + sufficiently suggestive; to particularize the attractions of Bourron after + this statement were surely supererogation. Yet, for my own pleasure as + much as for the use of my readers, I must jot down one or two especially + persistent memories, impressions of solemnity, beauty and repose never to + be effaced. + </p> + <p> + Of course it is only the cyclist who can realise such an immensity as the + Fontainebleau forest. From end to end these vast sweeps are now + intersected by splendid roads and by-roads. Old-fashioned folks, for whom + the horseless vehicle came too late, can but envy wheelmen and wheelwomen + as they skim through vista after vista, outstripping one’s horse and + carriage as a greyhound outstrips a decrepit poodle. On the other hand + only inveterate loiterers, the Lazy Lawrences of travel, can appreciate + the subtler beauties of this woodland world. There are certain sights and + sounds not to be caught by hurried observers, evanescent aspects of + cloud-land and tree-land, rock and undergrowth, passing notes of bird and + insect, varied melodies, if we may so express it, of summer breeze and + autumn wind—in fine, a dozen experiences enjoyed one day, not + repeated on the next. The music of the forest is a quiet music and has to + be listened for, hardly on the cyclist’s ear falls the song or rather + accompaniment of the grasshopper, “the Muse of the wayside,” a French poet + has so exquisitely apostrophized. + </p> + <p> + One’s forest companion should be of a taciturn and contemplative turn. + Only thus can we drink in the sense of such solitude and immensity; + realizing to the full what indeed these words may mean, he may wander for + hours without encountering a soul, very few birds are heard by the way, + but the hum of the insect world, that dreamy go-between, hardly silence, + hardly to be called noise, keeps us perpetual company, and our eyes must + ever be open for beautiful little living things. Now a green and gold + lizard flashes across a bit of grey rock, now a dragon-fly disports its + sapphire wings amid the yellowing ferns or purple ling, butterflies, + white, blue, and black and orange, flit hither and thither, whilst little + beetles, blue as enamel beads, enliven the mossy undergrowth. + </p> + <p> + One pre-eminent charm indeed of the Fontainebleau forest is this wealth of + undergrowth, bushes, brambles and ferns making a second lesser thicket on + all sides. In sociable moods delightful it is to go a-blackberrying here. + I am almost tempted to say that if you want to realise the lusciousness of + a hedgerow dessert you must cater for yourself in these forty thousand + acres of blackberry orchard. + </p> + <p> + But the foremost, the crowning excellence of Fontainebleau forest consists + in its variety. France itself, the “splendid hexagon,” with its mountains, + rivers and plains, is hardly more varied than this vast area of rock and + woodland. We can choose between sites, savage or idyllic, pastoral or + grandiose, here finding a sunny glade, the very spot for a picnic, there + break-neck declivities and gloomy chasms. The magnificent ruggedness of + Alpine scenery is before our eyes, without the awfulness of snow-clad + peaks or the blinding dazzle of glacier. In more than one place we could + almost fancy that some mountain has been upheaved and split asunder, the + clefts formed by these gigantic fragments being now filled with veteran + trees. + </p> + <p> + The formation of the forest has puzzled geologists, to this day the origin + of its rocky substratum remaining undetermined. + </p> + <p> + Within half an hour’s stroll of Bourron lies the so-called “Mare aux Fées” + or Fairies’ Mere, as sweet a spot to boil one’s kettle in as holiday + makers can desire, at the same time affording the best possible + illustration of what I have just insisted upon. For this favourite resort + is in a certain sense microcosmic, giving in miniature those + characteristics for which the forest is remarkable. Smooth and sunny as a + garden plot is the open glade wherein we now halt for tea, and while the + kettle boils we have time for a most suggestive bird’s eye view. It is a + little world that we survey from the borders of this rock-hemmed, + forest-girt lake, one perspective after another with varying gradations of + colour making us realize the many-featured, chequered area spread before + us. From this coign of vantage are discerned alike the sterner and the + more smiling beauties of the forest, rocky defiles, gloomy passes, sunlit + lawns and mossy dells, scenery varied in itself and yet varying again with + the passing hour and changing month. And such suggestion of almost + infinite variety is not gained only from the Fairies’ Mere. From a dozen + points, not the same view but the same kind of view may be obtained, each + differing from the other, except in charm and immensity. Within a walk of + home also stands one of the numerous monuments scattered throughout the + forest. The Croix de Saint Hérem, now a useful landmark for cyclists, has + a curious history. It was erected in 1666 by a certain Marquis de + Saint-Hérem, celebrated for his ugliness, and centuries later was the + scene of the most extraordinary rendezvous on record. Here, in 1804, every + detail having been theatrically arranged beforehand, took place the + so-called chance meeting of Napoleon and Pope Pius VII. The Emperor had + arranged a grand hunt for that day, and in hunting dress, his dogs at his + heels, awaited the pontiff by the cross of Saint Hérem. As the pair + lovingly embraced each other the Imperial horses ran away; this apparent + escapade formed part of the programme, and Napoleon stepped into the + Pope’s carriage, seating himself on his visitor’s, rather his prisoner’s, + right. A few years later another rencontre not without historic irony took + place here. In 1816, Louis XVIII. received on this spot the future mother, + so it was hoped, of French Kings, the adventurous Caroline of Naples, + afterwards Duchesse de Berri. + </p> + <p> + The crosses monuments of the forest are usefully catalogued in local + guide-books, and many have historic associations. The most interesting of + these—readers will excuse the Irish bull—is a monument that + may be said never to have existed! + </p> + <p> + The great Polish patriot Kosciusko spent the last fifteen years of his + life in a hamlet near Nemours, and on his death the inhabitants of that + and neighbouring villages projected a double memorial, in other words, a + tiny chapel, the ruins of which are still seen near Episy, and a mound to + be added to every year and to be called “La Montagne de Kosciusko,” or + Kosciusko’s mountain. Particulars of this generous and romantic scheme are + preserved in the archives of Montigny. The inauguration of the mound took + place on the ninth of October 1836. To the sound of martial music, drums + and cannon, the first layers of earth were deposited, men, women and + children taking part in the proceedings. A year later no less than ten + thousand French friends of Poland with mattock and spade added several + feet to Kosciusko’s mountain. But the celebration got noised abroad. + Afraid of anti-Russian manifestations the government of Louis Philippe + prohibited any further Polish fêtes. Thus it came about that, as I have + said, the most interesting monument in the forest remains an idea. And all + things considered, neither French nor English admirers of the exiled hero + could to-day very well carve on the adjoining rock, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And Freedom shrieked when Kosciusko fell.” + </pre> + <p> + Some time or other the Russian Imperial pair may visit Fontainebleau, + whilst an English tourist with <i>The Daily Mail</i> in his pocket would + naturally and sheepishly look the other way. + </p> + <p> + Another half hour’s stroll and we find ourselves in an atmosphere of art, + fashion and sociability. Only a mile either of woodland, field path or + high road separates Bourron from its more populous and highly popular + neighbour, Marlotte. Here every house has an artist’s north window, the + road is alive with motor cars, you can even buy a newspaper! Marlotte + possesses a big, I should say comfortable, hotel, is very cosmopolitan and + very pretty. Anglo-French households here, as at Bourron, favour + Anglo-French relations. In Marlotte drawing-rooms we are in France, but + always with a pleasant reminder of England and of true English + hospitality. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. — BOURRON—<i>continued.</i> + </h2> + <p> + I will now say something about my numerous acquaintances at Bourron. After + three summer holidays spent in this friendly little spot I can boast of a + pretty large visiting list, the kind of list requiring no cards or + ceremonious procedure. My hostess, a Frenchwoman, and myself used to drop + in for a chat with this neighbour and that whenever we passed their way, + always being cheerily welcomed and always pressed to stay a little longer. + </p> + <p> + The French peasant is the most laborious, at the same time the most + leisurely, individual in the world. Urgent indeed must be those farming + operations that prevent him from enjoying a talk. Conversation, + interchange of ideas, give and take by word of mouth, are as necessary to + the Frenchman’s well-being as oxygen to his lungs. + </p> + <p> + “Man,” writes Montesquieu, “is described as a sociable animal.” From this + point of view it appears to me that the Frenchman may be called more of a + man than others; he is first and foremost a man, since he seems especially + made for society. + </p> + <p> + Elsewhere the same great writer adds:—“You may see in Paris + individuals who have enough to live upon for the rest of their days, yet + they labour so arduously as to shorten their days, in order, as they say, + to assure themselves of a livelihood.” These two marked characteristics + are as true of the French peasant now-a-days as of the polite society + described in the “Lettres Persanes.” In the eighteenth century cultivated + people did little else but talk. Morning, noon and night, their + epigrammatic tongues were busy. Conversation in historic salons became a + fine art. There are no such literary côteries in our time. What with one + excitement and another, the Parisian world chats but has no time for real + conversation. Perhaps for <i>Gauloiseries</i>, true Gallic salt, we must + now go to the unlettered, the sons of the soil, whose ancestors were boors + when wit sparkled among their social superiors. + </p> + <p> + Here are one or two types illustrating both characteristics, excellent + types in their way of the small peasant proprietor hereabouts, a class + having no counterpart or approximation to a counterpart in England. + </p> + <p> + The first visit I describe was paid one evening to an old gardener whom I + will call the Père A—. Bent partly with toil, partly with age, you + would have at once supposed that his working days were well over, + especially on learning his circumstances, for sole owner he was of the + little domain to which he had now retired for the day. Of benevolent + aspect, shrewd, every inch alive despite infirmities, he received his + neighbour and her English guest with rustic but cordial urbanity, at once + entering into conversation. With evident pride and pleasure he watched my + glances at premises and garden, house and outbuildings ramshackle enough, + even poverty-stricken to look at, here not an indication of comfortable + circumstances much less of independent means; the bit of land half farm, + half garden, however, was fairly well kept and of course productive. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, this dwelling is mine and the two hectares (four acres four hundred + and odd feet), aye,” he added self-complacently, “and I have a little + money besides.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you live here all by yourself and still work for wages?” I asked. His + reply was eminently characteristic. “I work for my children.” These + children he told me were two grown up sons, one of them being like himself + a gardener, both having work. Thus in order to hoard up a little more for + two able-bodied young men, here was a bent, aged man living penuriously + and alone, his only companion being a beautiful and evidently much petted + donkey. I ventured to express an English view of the matter, namely, the + undesirability of encouraging idleness and self-indulgence in one’s + children by toiling and moiling for them in old age. + </p> + <p> + He nodded his head. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, all that you say is true, but so it is with me. I must + work for my children.” + </p> + <p> + And thus blindly are brought about the parricidal tragedies that Zola, Guy + de Maupassant and other novelists have utilized in fiction, and with which + we are familiarized in French criminal reports—parents and + grandparents got rid of for the sake of their coveted hoardings. + </p> + <p> + Thus also are generated in the rich and leisured classes that intense + selfishness of the rising generation so movingly portrayed in M. Hervieu’s + play, “La Course du Flambeau.” No one who has witnessed Mme. Réjane’s + presentment of the adoring, disillusioned mother can ever forget it. + </p> + <p> + On leaving, the Père A—— presented us with grapes and pears, + carefully selecting the finest for his English visitor. + </p> + <p> + At the gate I threw a Parthian dart. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t work too hard,” I said, whereupon came the burden of his song: + </p> + <p> + “One must work for one’s children.” + </p> + <p> + This good neighbour could neither read nor write, a quite exceptional case + in these days. Our second visit was made to a person similarly situated, + but belonging to a different order. + </p> + <p> + Madame B——, a widow, was also advanced in years and also lived + by herself on her little property, consisting of walled-in cottage and + outhouses, with straggling garden or rather orchard, garden and field in + one. + </p> + <p> + This good woman is what country folks in these parts call rich. I have no + doubt that an English farmeress in her circumstances would have the + neatest little parlour, a tidy maid to wait upon her, and most likely take + afternoon tea in a black silk gown. Our hostess here wore the dress of a + poor but respectable working woman. Her interior was almost as bare and + primitive as that of the Boer farmhouse in the Paris Exhibition. Although + between six and seven o’clock, there was no sign whatever of preparation + for an evening meal. Indeed on every side things looked poverty-stricken. + Not a penny had evidently been spent upon kitchen or bedrooms for years + and years, the brick floor of both being bare, the furniture having done + duty for generations. + </p> + <p> + This “rentière,” or person living upon independent means, did not match + her sordid surroundings. Although toil-worn, tanned and wrinkled, her face + “brown as the ribbed sea-sand,” there was a certain refinement about look, + speech and manner, distinguishing her from the good man her neighbour. + After a little conversation I soon found out that she had literary tastes. + </p> + <p> + “Living alone and finding the winter evenings long I hire books from a + lending library at Fontainebleau,” she said. + </p> + <p> + I opened my eyes in amazement. Seldom indeed had I heard of a peasant + proprietor in France caring for books, much less spending money upon them. + </p> + <p> + “And what do you read?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Anything I can get,” was the reply. “Madame’s husband,” here she looked + at my friend, “has kindly lent me several.” + </p> + <p> + Among these I afterwards found had been Zola’s “Rome” and “Le Désastre” by + the brothers Margueritte. + </p> + <p> + Like the Père A—— she had married children and entertained + precisely the same notion of parental duty. The few sous spent upon such + beguilement of long winter nights were most likely economized by some + little deprivation. There is something extremely pathetic in this + patriarchal spirit, this uncompromising, ineradicable resolve to hand down + a little patrimony not only intact but enlarged. + </p> + <p> + “Our peasants live too sordidly,” observed a Frenchman to me a day or two + later. “They carry thrift to the pitch of avarice and vice. Zola’s ‘La + Terre’ is not without foundation on fact.” + </p> + <p> + And excellent as is the principle of forethought, invaluable as is the + habit of laying by for a rainy day, I have at last come to the conclusion + that of the two national weaknesses, French avarice and English lavishness + and love of spending, the latter is more in accordance with progress and + the spirit of the age. + </p> + <p> + In another part of the village we called upon a hale old body of + seventy-seven, who not only lived alone and did everything for herself + indoors but the entire work of a market garden, every inch of the two and + a half acres being, of course, her own. Piled against an inner wall we saw + a dozen or so faggots each weighing, we were told, half a hundredweight. + Will it be believed that this old woman had picked up and carried from the + forest on her back every one of these faggots? The poor, or rather those + who will, are allowed to glean firewood in all the State forests of + France. Let no tourist bestow a few sous upon aged men and women bearing + home such treasure-trove! Quite possibly the dole may affront some owner + of houses and lands. + </p> + <p> + As we inspected her garden, walls covered with fine grapes, tomatoes and + melons, of splendid quality, to say nothing of vegetables in profusion, it + seemed all the more difficult to reconcile facts so incongruous. Here was + a market gardener on her own account, mistress of all she surveyed, glad + as a gipsy to pick up sticks for winter use. But the burden of her story + was the same: + </p> + <p> + “Il faut travailler pour ses enfants” (one must work for one’s children), + she said. + </p> + <p> + All these little farm-houses are so many homely fortresses, cottage and + outhouses being securely walled in, a precaution necessary with aged, + moneyed folks living absolutely alone. + </p> + <p> + A fourth visit was paid to a charming old Philémon and Baucis, the best + possible specimens of their class. The husband lay in bed, ill of an + incurable malady, and spotlessly white were his tasselled nightcap, shirt + and bedclothes. Very clean and neat too was the bedroom opening on to the + little front yard, beneath each window of the one-storeyed dwelling being + a brilliant border of asters. The housewife also was a picture of + tidiness, her cotton gown carefully patched and scrupulously clean. This + worthy couple are said to be worth fifty thousand francs. The wife, a + sexagenarian, does all the work of the house besides waiting on her good + man, to whom she is devoted, but a married son and daughter-in-law share + her duties at night. Here was no touch of sordidness or suggestion of “La + Terre,” instead a delightful picture of rustic dignity and ease. The + housewife sold us half a bushel of pears, these two like their neighbours + living by the produce of their small farm and garden. + </p> + <p> + I often dropped in upon Madame B—— to whom even morning calls + were acceptable. + </p> + <p> + On the occasion of my farewell visit she had something pretty to say about + one of my own novels, a French translation of which I had presented her. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” I said, “that you have some books of your own?” + </p> + <p> + “Here they are,” she said, depositing an armful on the table. “But I have + never read much, and mostly <i>bibelots</i>” (trifles.) + </p> + <p> + Her poor little library consisted of <i>bibelots</i> indeed, a history of + Jeanne d’Arc for children, and half a dozen other works, mostly school + prizes of the kind awarded before school prizes in France were worth the + paper on which they were printed. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. — LARCHANT. + </h2> + <p> + There is a certain stimulating quality of elasticity and crispness in the + French atmosphere which our own does not possess. France, moreover, with + its seven climates—for the description of these, see Reclus’ + Geography—does undoubtedly offer longer, less broken, spells of hot + summer weather than the United Kingdom. But let me for once and for all + dispel a widespread illusion. The late Lord Lytton, when Ambassador in + Paris, used to say that in the French capital you could procure any + climate you pleased. And experience proves that without budging an inch + you may in France get as many and as rapid climatic changes as anywhere + else under the sun. At noon in mid-May last I was breakfasting with + friends on the Champs Elysées, when my hostess put a match to the fire and + my host jumped up and lighted six wax candles. So dense had become the + heavens that we could no longer see to handle knives and forks! Hail, + wind, darkness and temperature recalled a November squall at home. Yet the + day before I had enjoyed perfect summer weather in the Jardin + d’Acclimitation. Invariableness is no more an attribute of the French + climate than our own. Wherever we go we must take a change of dress, for + all the world as if we were bound for the other side of the Tweed. + </p> + <p> + My first Sunday at Bourron, on this third visit, was of perfect stillness, + unclouded brilliance and southern languor, heralding, so we fondly + imagined, the very morrow for an excursion. + </p> + <p> + In the night a strong wind rose up, but as we had ordered a carriage for + Larchant, and as carriages in these parts are not always to be had, as, + moreover, grown folks no more than children like to defer their pleasure, + off we set, two of the party on cycles forming a body guard. There seemed + no likelihood of rain and in the forest we should not feel the wind. + </p> + <p> + For the first mile or two all went well. Far ahead of us our cyclists + bowled gaily along in the forest avenues, all of us being sheltered from + the wind. It was not till we skirted a wide opening that we felt the full + force of the tornado, soon overtaking our blowzed, dishevelled companions, + both on foot and looking miserable enough. + </p> + <p> + We re-entered the forest, and a little later, emerging from the fragrant + depths of a pine wood, got our first view of Larchant, coming suddenly + upon what looks like a cathedral towering above the plain, at its base a + clustering village, whitewashed brown-roofed houses amid vineyards and + orchards. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration} + </p> + <p> + A grandiose view it is, recalling the minaret of Mansourah near Tclemcen + in Algeria, that gigantic monolith apparently carved out of Indian gold + and cleft in two like a pomegranate. + </p> + <p> + Slowly we wound up towards the village, the wind, or rather hurricane, + gathering in force as we went. It was indeed no easy task to get a nearer + view of the church; more than once we were compelled to beat a retreat, + whilst it seemed really unsafe to linger underneath such a ruin. + </p> + <p> + Imagine the tower of St. Jacques in the Rue de Rivoli split in two, the + upright half standing in a bare wind-swept level, and you have some faint + notion of Larchant. On nearer approach such an impression of grandeur is + by no means diminished. This magnificent parish church, in part a ruin, in + part restored, rather grows upon one upon closer inspection. Reparation, + for want of funds, has stopped short at the absolutely necessary. The body + of the church has been so far restored as to be fit for use, but its + crowning glory, the tower, remains a torso. + </p> + <p> + The front view suggests no such dilapidation. How long will the shell of + that lofty twelfth century tower remain standing? To my mind it hangs over + the low, one-storeyed houses at its feet, a veritable sword of Damocles, + sooner or later sure to fall with crushing force. The porch shows much + beautiful carving, unfortunately defaced, and the interior some perfect + specimens of pure Gothic arches, the whole whitewashed and bare as a barn. + </p> + <p> + Larchant in the middle ages was a famous pilgrimage, and in the days of + Charles IX. a halting stage on the road to Italy. It does not seem to + attract many English pilgrims at the present time. Anyhow tea-making here + seems a wholly unknown art. In a fairly clean inn, however, a good-natured + landlady allowed us to make ourselves at home alike in kitchen and pantry. + One of our party unearthed a time-honoured tea-pot—we had of course + taken the precaution of carrying tea with us—one by one milk and + sugar were forthcoming in what may be called wholesale fashion, milk-jugs + and sugar-basins being apparently articles of superfluity, and in company + of a charming old dog and irresistible kitten, also of some quiet + wayfarers, we five-o’clocked merrily enough. + </p> + <p> + Our business at Larchant was not wholly archaeological. Buffeted as we + were by the hurricane, we managed to pay a visit in search of eggs and + poultry for the table at home. + </p> + <p> + If peasant and farming life in France certainly from time to time reminds + us of Zola’s “La Terre,” we are also reminded of an aspect which the great + novelist ignores. As will be seen from the following sketch sordidness and + aspiration oft times, I am almost tempted to say, and most often, go hand + in hand. + </p> + <p> + We see one generation addicted to an existence so laborious and material + as to have no counterpart in England; under the same roof growing up + another, sharing all the advantages of social and intellectual progress. + </p> + <p> + Not far from the church we called upon a family of large and wealthy + farmers, owners of the soil they cultivate, millionaires by comparison + with our neighbours at Bourron. + </p> + <p> + We arrived in the midst of a busy time, a steam corn thresher plying in + the vast farm-yard. The interior of the big, straggling farm-house we did + not see, but two aged women dressed like poor peasants received us in the + kitchen, a dingy, unswept, uninviting place, as are most farm-house + kitchens in France. These old ladies were respectively mother-in-law and + aunt of the farmer, whose wife, the real mistress of the house, soon came + in. This tall, stout, florid, brawny-armed woman was evidently what French + folks call <i>une maîtresse femme</i>, a first-rate housewife and manager; + a somewhat awe-inspiring person she looked as she stood before us, arms + akimbo, her short coarse serge skirt showing shoes well acquainted with + stable and neat-house, one dirty blue cotton apron worn over another + equally dirty. Now, my hostess, as I have said, wanted to purchase some + poultry for the table, and here comes in the moral of my story. Vainly the + lady begged and begged again for a couple of chickens. “But we want them + for our Parisians,” the three farming women reiterated, one echoing the + other. “Our Parisians, our Parisians,” the words were repeated a dozen + times. And as was explained to me afterwards, “our Parisians,” for whom + the pick of the poultry yard was being reserved, were the two sons of the + rather forbidding-looking matron before us, young gentlemen being educated + in a Paris Lycée, and both of them destined for the learned professions! + </p> + <p> + This side of rural life, this ambition, akin to what we see taking quite + another form among ourselves, Zola does not sufficiently realize. Shocking + indeed were the miserliness and materialism of such existences but for the + element of self-denial, this looking ahead for those to follow after. How + differently, for instance, the farm-house and its group must have + appeared, but for the evident pride and hopes centred in <i>nos Parisiens</i>, + who knows?—perhaps youths destined to attain the first rank in + official or political callings! + </p> + <p> + The farther door of the smoke-dried kitchen opened on to the farm-yard, + around which were stables and neat-houses. In the latter the mistress of + the house proudly drew our attention to a beautiful blue cow, grey in our + ignorance we had called it, one of a score or more of superb kine all now + reclining on their haunches before being turned out to pasture. In front, + cocks and hens disported themselves on a dunghill, whilst beyond, the + steam corn thresher was at work, every hand being called into requisition. + No need here for particulars and figures. The superabundant wealth, so + carefully husbanded for the two youths in Paris, was self-evident. + </p> + <p> + The tornado, with threatening showers and the sight of a huge tree just + uprooted by the road side, necessitated the shortest possible cut home. In + fair weather a prolongation of our drive would have given us a sight of + some famous rocks of this rocky forest. But we carried home memories + enough for one day. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. — RECLOSES. + </h2> + <p> + This ancient village, reached by the forest, is one of the most + picturesque of the many picturesque places hereabouts. Quitting a stretch + of pinewood we traverse flat cultivated land, gradually winding up towards + a long straggling village surmounted by a lofty church tower of grey + stone. On either side of this street are enclosed farm-houses, the + interiors being as pictorial as can be imagined. Untidy as are most French + homesteads, for peasant farmers pay little court to the Graces, there is + always a bit of flower garden. Sometimes this flower garden is aerial, a + bower of roses on the roof sometimes amid the incongruous surroundings of + pig styes or manure heaps. This region is a petunia land; wherever we go + we find a veritable blaze of petunia blossoms, pale mauve, deepest rose, + purple and white massed together without order or view to effect. In one + of the little fortresses—for so these antique farmhouses may be + called—we saw a rustic piazza, pillars and roof of rude unhewn stone + blazing with petunias, no attempt whatever at making the structure whole, + symmetrical or graceful to the eye. It seems as if these homely though + rich farmers, or rather farmers’ wives, could not do without flowers, + above the street jutting many aerial gardens, the only touch of beauty in + the work-a-day picture. These interiors would supply artists with the most + captivating subjects. The women, their skins brown and wrinkled as ripe, + shelled walnuts, their head-dress a blue and white kerchief neatly folded + and knotted, the expression of their faces shrewd and kindly, all + contribute to the charm of the scene. + </p> + <p> + Here as elsewhere the young women and girls affect a little fashion and + finery on Sundays. + </p> + <p> + We should not know unless we were told that Recloses was one of the + richest villages in these parts. On this Sunday, September 1st, 1901, in + one place a steam thresher was at work, although for the most part folks + seemed to be taking their ease in their holiday garb. Perhaps the + difficulty of procuring the machine accounted for the fact of seeing it on + a Sunday. + </p> + <p> + One of the farm-yards showed a charming menagerie of poultry and the + prettiest rabbits in the world, all disporting themselves in most amicable + fashion. Here, as elsewhere, when we stopped to admire, the housewife came + out, pleased to interchange a few words with us. The sight of Recloses is + not, however, its long line of little walled-in farm-houses, but the + curious rocky platform at the end of the village, perforated with holes + always full of water, and the stupendous view thence obtained—an + ocean of sombre green unrelieved by a single sail. + </p> + <p> + Already the vast panorama of forest shows signs of autumn, light touches + of yellow relieving the depths of solemn green. On such a day of varied + cloudland the perspective must be quite different, and perhaps even more + beautiful than under a burning cloudless sky, no soft gradations between + the greens and the blues. The little pools or perforations breaking the + surface of the broad platform, acres of rocks, are, I believe, unexplained + phenomena. In the driest season these openings contain water, presumably + forced upwards from hidden springs. The pools, just now covered with green + slime, curiously spot the grey surface of the rocks. + </p> + <p> + If, leaving the world of forest to our right, we continue our journey in + the direction of Chapelle la Reine, we overlook a vast plain the + population of which is very different from that of the smiling fertile + prosperous valley of the Loing. This plain, extending to Étampes and + Pithiviers, might, I am told, possibly have suggested to Zola some scenes + and characters of “La Terre.” A French friend of mine, well acquainted + with these parts, tells me that at any rate there, if anywhere, the great + novelist might have found suggestions for such a work. The soil is arid, + the cultivation is primitive in the extreme and the people are rough and + uncouth. The other day an English resident at Marlotte, when cycling among + these villages of the plain inquired his way of a countryman. + </p> + <p> + “You are not a Frenchman?” quoth the latter before giving the desired + information. + </p> + <p> + “No I am not” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “You are not an American?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am an Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” was the answer, “I smelt you out sure enough” (<i>Je vous ai bien + senti</i>). Whereupon he proceeded to put the wayfarer on his right road. + </p> + <p> + As a rule French peasants are exceedingly courteous to strangers, but + these good people of the plain seldom come in contact with the tourist + world, their country not being sufficiently picturesque even to attract + the cyclist. + </p> + <p> + The curious thirteenth-century church of Recloses had long been an art + pilgrimage. It contains, or at least should contain, some of the most + wonderful wood carvings in France; figures and groups of figures highly + realistic in the best sense of the word. These sculptures, unfortunately, + we were not able to inspect a second time; exhibited in the Paris + Exhibition they had not yet been replaced. + </p> + <p> + It is a beautiful drive from Recloses to Bourron by the Croix de Saint + Hérem. A little way out of the village we came upon a pretty scene, + people, in family groups, playing croquet under the trees. Dancing also + goes on in summer as in the olden time. It was curious as we drove along + to note the behaviour of my friend’s dog: it never for a moment closed its + eyes, and yet there was nothing to look at but avenue after avenue of + trees. What could the little animal find so fascinating in the somewhat + monotonous sight? A friend at home assures me that a pet of her own + enjoyed drives from purely snobbish motives; his great gratification + arising from the sense of superiority over fellow dogs compelled to trudge + on foot. But in these woodland solitudes there was no room for such a + sentiment, not a dog being visible, only now and then a cyclist flashing + by. + </p> + <p> + There is no more splendid cycling ground in the world than this forest of + Fontainebleau. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare says:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “This guest of summer, + The temple-haunting martlet, does approve + By his loved mansionry that the heaven’s breath + Smells wooingly here: no jutty frieze, buttress, + Nor coigne of vantage, but this bird hath made + His pendent bed, and procreant cradle: Where they + Most breed and haunt, I have observed the air + Is delicate.” + </pre> + <p> + About this time at Bourron the village street was alive with swallows + preparing, I presume, for departure southwards. A beautiful sight it was + to see these winged congregations evidently concerting their future + movements. + </p> + <p> + Another feature to be mentioned is the number of large handsome moths + frequenting these regions. One beautiful creature as large as a swallow + used to fly into our dining room every evening for warmth; fastening + itself to the wall it would there remain undisturbed until the morning. + </p> + <p> + I finish these reminiscences of Bourron by the following citation from + Balzac’s “Ursule Mirouët”:— + </p> + <p> + “On entering Nemours at five o’clock in the morning, Ursule woke up + feeling quite ashamed of her untidiness, and of encountering Savinien’s + look of admiration. During the time that the diligence took to come from + Bouron (<i>sic</i>), where it stopped a few minutes, the young man had + observed Ursule. He had noted the candour of her mind, the beauty of her + person, the whiteness of her complexion, the delicacy of her features, the + charm of the voice which had uttered the short and expressive sentence, in + which the poor child said everything, while wishing to say nothing. In + short I do not know what presentiment made him see in Ursule the woman + whom the doctor had depicted, framed in gold, with these magic words:—‘Seven + to eight hundred thousand francs!’” + </p> + <p> + Holiday tourists in these parts cannot do better than put this love-story + in their pockets. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. — NEMOURS. + </h2> + <p> + “Who knows Nemours,” wrote Balzac, “knows that nature there is as + beautiful as art,” and again he dwells upon the charm of the sleepy little + town memorialized in “Ursule Mirouët.” + </p> + <p> + The delicious valley of Loing indeed fascinated Balzac almost as much as + his beloved Touraine. + </p> + <p> + As his recently published letters to Madame Hanska have shown us, several + of his greatest novels were written in this neighbourhood, whilst in the + one named above we have a setting as striking as that of “Eugenie Grandet” + or “Béatrix.” A ten minutes’ railway journey brings us to Nemours, one of + the few French towns, by the way, in which Arthur Young lost his temper. + Here is his own account of the incident:— + </p> + <p> + “Sleep at Nemours, where we met with an innkeeper who exceeded in knavery + all we had met with, either in France or Italy: for supper, we had a <i>soupe + maigre</i>, a partridge and a chicken roasted, a plate of celery, a small + cauliflower, two bottles of poor <i>vin du Pays</i>, and a dessert of two + biscuits and four apples: here is the bill:—Potage 1 liv. 10f.—Perdrix + 2 liv. 10f.—Poulet 2 liv.—Céleri 1 liv. 4f.—Choufleur 2 + liv.—Pain et dessert 2 liv.—Feu et appartement 6 liv.—Total + 19 liv. 8f. Against so impudent an extortion we remonstrated severely but + in vain. We then insisted on his signing the bill, which, after many + evasions, he did, <i>à l’étoile, Foulliare</i>. But having been carried to + the inn, not as the star, but the <i>écu de France</i>, we suspected some + deceit: and going out to examine the premises, we found the sign to be + really the <i>écu</i>, and learned on enquiry that his own name was Roux, + instead of <i>Foulliare</i>: he was not prepared for this detection, or + for the execration we poured on such infamous conduct; but he ran away in + an instant and hid himself till we were gone. In justice to the world, + however, such a fellow ought to be marked out.” + </p> + <p> + I confess I do not myself find such charges excessive. From a very + different motive, Nemours put me as much out of temper as it had done my + great predecessor a hundred years before. Will it be believed that a town + memorialized by the great, perhaps <i>the</i> greatest, French novelist, + could not produce its title of honour, in other words a copy of “Ursule + Mirouët”? + </p> + <p> + This town of 4,000 and odd souls and chef-lieu of department does not + possess a bookseller’s shop. We did indeed see in a stationer’s window one + or two penny books, among these an abridged translation of “Uncle Tom’s + Cabin.” But a friendly wine merchant, who seemed to take my reproaches + very much to heart, assured us that in the municipal library all Balzac’s + works were to be found, besides many valuable books dealing with local + history. + </p> + <p> + Cold comfort this for tourists who want to buy a copy of the Nemours + story! As we stroll about the grass-grown streets, we feel that railways, + telephones and the rest have very little changed Nemours since Balzac’s + descriptions, written three-quarters of a century ago. + </p> + <p> + The sweet and pastoral surroundings of the place are in strong contrast + with the sordid next-of-kin peopling the pages of his romance. Beyond the + fine old church of rich grey stone, you obtain as enchanting a view as the + valley of the Loing can show, a broad, crystal-clear river winding amid + picturesque architecture, richest and most varied foliage, ash and weeping + willow mingling with deeper-hued beech and alder. It is difficult, almost + impossible, to describe the charm of this riverside scenery. In one + passage of his novel, Balzac compares the view to the scenery of an opera, + and in very truth every feature forms a whole so harmonious as to suggest + artistic arrangement. + </p> + <p> + Nature and accident have effected the happiest possible combination of + wood, water and building stone. Nothing is here to mar the complete + picture. Grandly the cathedral-like church and fine old château stand out + to-day against the brilliant sky, soft grey stone and dark brown making + subdued harmonies. Formerly Nemours was surrounded by woods, hence its + name. People are said to attain here a very great age, life being tranquil + and the nature of the people somewhat lethargic. + </p> + <p> + Amongst the more energetic inhabitants are a lady dentist and her sister, + who between them do a first rate business. + </p> + <p> + French peasants never dream of indulging in false teeth; such an idea + would never enter the head of even the richest. But an aching tooth + interferes with the labours of the farm, and must be got rid of at any + cost. This young lady <i>chirurgien et dentiste</i>, such is the name + figuring on her door plate, is not only most expert in using the forceps, + but is attractive and pretty. + </p> + <p> + Her charges are two francs for a visit or operation; in partnership with + her is a sister who does the accounts, and as nuns and sisters of charity + unprovided with certificates are no longer allowed to draw teeth, act as + midwives and cut off limbs, country doctors and dentists of either sex + have now a fair chance. + </p> + <p> + No town in this part of France suffered more during the German invasion. + The municipal authorities had at first decided upon making a bold stand, + thus endeavouring to check the enemy’s advance on Paris. Differences of + opinion arose, prudential counsels prevailed, and it was through a + mistaken order that a Prussian detachment was attacked near the town. The + consequences were appalling. The station was burned to the ground, + enormous contributions in money and material were exacted from the town, + some of the authorities were made to travel on the railways with the + invaders, and others were carried off to remote fortresses of Brandenburg + and there kept as prisoners for nine months. + </p> + <p> + The account of all these incidents, written by a victim, may be consulted + in a volume of the town library. + </p> + <p> + If people frequently attain the age of a hundred in Nemours, as I was + assured, it is rather due to placid temperament than to intellectual + torpor. The town possesses learned societies, and a member of its + archaeological association has published a book of great local interest + and value, viz:—“Nemours, Temps Géologiques, Temps Préhistoriques, + Temps Historiques, par E. Doigneau, Membre de la Société Archéologique de + Seine-et-Marne, Ancien Vice Président de la section de Fontainebleau, + Paris.” + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, although this neighbourhood has offered a rich field for + prehistoric research, Nemours as yet possesses no museum, I do verily + believe the first French town of any size I have ever found in France + without one at least in embryo. For the cyclist the run from Bourron to + Nemours is delightful, on the hottest day in the year spinning along broad + well-wooded roads, with lovely perspectives from time to time. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. — LA CHARITÉ-SUR-LOIRE. + </h2> + <p> + From Bourron, in September, 1900, I journeyed with a friend to La Charité, + a little town four hours off. + </p> + <p> + It is ever with feelings of pleasurable anticipation that I approach any + French town for the first time. The number of these, alas! now being few, + I have of late years been compelled to restrain curiosity, leaving one or + two dreamed-of spots for the future, saying with Wordsworth:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Should life be dull and spirits low, + ‘Twill soothe us in our sorrow, + That earth has something yet to show, + The bonny holms of Yarrow.” + </pre> + <p> + La Charité, picturesque of the picturesque—according to French + accounts, English, we have none—for many years had been a Yarrow to + me, a reserve of delight, held back from sheer Epicureanism. + </p> + <p> + As, on the 12th of September, the cumbersome old omnibus rattled over the + unpaved streets, both to myself and fellow traveller came a feeling of + disenchantment. We had apparently reached one more of those sleepy little + <i>chefs-lieux</i> familiar to both, places of interest certainly, the + sleepiest having some architectural gem or artistic treasure. But here was + surely no Yarrow! + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later we discovered our error. Hardly had we reached our + rooms in the more than old-fashioned Hôtel du Grand Monarque, than from a + side window, we caught sight of the Loire; so near, indeed, lay the + bright, blue river, that we could almost have thrown pebbles into its + clear depths; quitting the hotel, half a dozen steps, no more were needed, + an enchanting scene burst upon the view. + </p> + <p> + Most beautiful is the site of La Charité, built terrace-wise, not on the + skirts but on the very hem of the Loire, here no revolutionary torrent, + sweeping away whole villages, leaving only church steeples visible above + the engulfing waters, as I had once seen it at Nantes, but a broad, + smooth, crystal expanse of sky-blue. Over against the handsome stone + bridge to-day having its double in the limpid water, we see a little + islanded hamlet crowned with picturesque church tower; and, placing + ourselves midway between the town and its suburban twin, obtain vast and + lovely perspectives. Westward, gradually purpling as evening wears on, + rises the magnificent height of Sancerre, below, amid low banks bordered + with poplar, flowing the Loire. Eastward, looking towards Nevers, our eyes + rest on the same broad sheet of blue; before us, straight as an arrow, + stretches the French road of a pattern we know so well, an apparently + interminable avenue of plane or poplar trees. The river is low at this + season, and the velvety brown sands recall the sea-shore when the tide is + out. Exquisite, at such an hour are the reflections, every object having + its mirrored self in the transparent waves, the lights and shadows of + twilight making lovely effects. + </p> + <p> + As is the case with Venice, La Charité should be reached by river, and a + pity it seems that little steamers do not ply between all the principal + towns on the Loire. How enchanting, like the immortal Vert-Vert, of + Gresset’s poem, to travel from Nevers to the river’s mouth! + </p> + <p> + If I had headed this paper merely with the words “La Charité,” I should + surely be supposed to treat of some charitable institution in France, or + of charity as worked out in the abstract, for this first of Christian + virtues has given the place its name, presumably perpetuating the + charitableness of its abbatial founders. Just upon two thousand years ago, + some pious monks of the order of Cluny settled here, calling their + foundation La Charité. Gradually a town grew around the abbey walls, and + what better name for any than this? So La Charité it was in early feudal + times, and La Charité it remains in our own. + </p> + <p> + The place itself is as antiquated and behindhand as any I have seen in + France, which is saying a good deal. A French gentleman, native of these + parts, told me that in his grandfather’s time our Hôtel du Grand Monarque + enjoyed a fine reputation. In many respects it deserves the same still, + excellent beds, good cooking, quietude and low prices not being so common + as they might be in French provincial inns. The house, too, is curious, + what with its spiral stone staircases, little passages leading to one room + here, to another there—as if in former days travellers objected to + walls that adjoined those of other people—and unaccountable levels, + it is impossible to understand whether you were on the first floor or the + second floor, house-top, or basement. Our bedrooms, for instance, reached + by one of the spiral stone staircases just named never used by myself + without apprehension, landed us on the edge of a poultry yard; I suppose a + wide bit of roof had been converted into this use, but it was quite + impossible to make out any architectural plan. These rooms adjoining this + <i>basse-cour</i>, hens and chicks would enter unceremoniously and pick up + the crumbs we threw to them. Fastidious tourists might resent so primitive + a state of things, the hotel, I should say, remaining exactly what it was + under the Ancien Régime. The beauty and interest of various kinds around, + more than make up for small drawbacks. Here the archaeologist will not + grudge several days. Ruined as it is, the ancient abbey may be + reconstructed in the mind’s eye by the help of what we see before us. The + fragments of crumbling wall, the noble tower and portal, the delicately + sculptured pillars, cornices, and arches, enable us to build up the whole, + just as Cuvier made out an entire skeleton from the examination of a + single bone. These grand architectural fragments have not been neglected + by the learned. Unfortunately, and exceptionally, La Charité possesses + neither public library nor museum, but at Nevers the traveller would + surely find a copy of Prosper Merimée’s “Notes Archéologiques” in which is + a minute account of these. + </p> + <p> + Alike without and within the ruins show a medley of styles and richest + ornamentation. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration} + </p> + <p> + The superb north-west tower, that forms so striking an object from the + river, is said to be in the Burgundian style; rather should we put it + after a Burgundian style, so varied and heterogeneous are the churches + coming under this category. Again, the guide books inform us that the open + space between this tower and the church was occupied by the narthex, a + vast outer portico of ancient Burgundian churches used for the reception + of penitents, catechumens, and strangers. All interested in ecclesiastical + architecture should visit the abbey church of Vézelay, which possesses a + magnificent narthex of two storeys, restored by the late Viollet le Duc. + Vézelay, by the way, may be easily reached from La Charité. + </p> + <p> + Next to the elaborate sculptures of this grand tower, will be noted the + superb colour of the building stone, carved out of deep-hued gold it looks + under the burning blue sky. And of a piece are arch, portico and column, + one and all helping us to reconstruct the once mighty abbey, home of a + brotherhood so powerful as to necessitate disciplinary measures on the + part of the Pope. + </p> + <p> + The interior of the church shows the same elaborateness of detail, and the + same mixture of styles, the Romanesque-Burgundian predominating, so, at + least, affirm authorities. + </p> + <p> + The idler and lover of the picturesque will not find time hang heavy on + his hands here. Very sweet are the riverside views, no matter on which + side we obtain them, and the quaintest little staircases of streets run + from base to summit of the pyramidally-built town. A climb of a quarter of + an hour takes us to an admirable coign of vantage just above the abbey + church, and commanding a view of Sancerre and the river. That little town, + so splendidly placed, is celebrated for its eight months’ defence as a + Huguenot stronghold. + </p> + <p> + La Charité, with most mediaeval towns, was fortified, one old city gate + still remaining. + </p> + <p> + To-day, as when that charming writer, Émile Montégut visited the place + more than a generation ago, the townspeople ply their crafts and domestic + callings abroad. In fine weather, no work that can possibly be done in the + open air is done within four walls. Another curious feature of these + engaging old streets, is the number of blacksmiths’ shops. It would seem + as if all the horses, mules, and donkeys of the Nièvre were brought hither + to be shod, the smithy fires keeping up a perpetual illumination. + </p> + <p> + A third and still more noteworthy point is the infrequency—absence, + I am inclined to say—of cabarets. Soberest of the sober, orderliest + of the orderly, appear these good folks of La Charité, les Caritates as + they are called, nor, apparently, has tradition demoralised them. One + might expect that a town dedicated to the virtue of almsgiving would + abound in beggars. Not one did we see. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. — POUGUES. + </h2> + <p> + If an ugly name could kill a place, Pougues must surely have been ruined + as a health resort centuries ago. Coming, too, after that soothing, + harmoniously named La Charité, could any configuration of letters grate + more harshly on the ear? Truth to tell, my travelling companion and myself + had a friendly little altercation about Pougues. It seemed impossible to + believe pleasant things of a town so labelled. But the reputation of + Pougues dates from Hercules and Julius Caesar, both heroes, it is said, + having had recourse to its mineral springs! Coming from legend to history, + we find that Pougues, or, at least, the waters of Pougues, were patronised + by the least objectionable son of Catherine de Medicis, Henri II. of + France and runaway King of Poland. Imputing his disorders to sorcery, he + was thus reassured by a sensible physician named Pidoux: “Sire, the malady + from which you suffer is due to no witchcraft. Lead a quiet life for ten + weeks, and drink the water of Pougues.” The best king France ever had, + namely, the gay Gascon, and after him Louis XIII., by no means one of the + worst, had recourse to Pougues waters; also that arch-voluptuary and + arch-despot, the Sun-King, who imagined that even syntax and prosody must + bow to his will. {Footnote: One day the young king ordered his carriage, + saying, “<i>mon</i> carrosse,” instead of “<i>ma</i> carrosse,” the French + word being derived from the Italian feminine, <i>carrozza</i>. On being + gently corrected, the king flew into a passion, declaring that masculine + he had called it, and masculine it should remain, which it has done to + this day, so the story runs. Let the Republic look to it!} And Madame de + Sevigné—for whom, however, I have scant love, for did she not hail + the revocation of the Edict of Nantes?—Madame de Sevigné honoured + Pougues with an epigram. + </p> + <p> + A second Purgatory she styled the douches, and, doubtless, in those + non-washing days, a second Purgatory it would have been to most folks. + </p> + <p> + To Pougues, nevertheless, we went, and if these notes induce the more + enterprising of my countrypeople to do the same next summer, they are not + likely to repent of the experiment. Never, indeed, was a little Eden of + coolness, freshness, and greenery more abominably used by its sponsors, + whilst the name of so many French townlings are a poem in themselves! + </p> + <p> + From a view of sky blue waters and smooth brown sands we were transported + to a world of emerald green verdure and richest foliage, interpenetrated + with golden light. On this 14th of September the warmth and dazzlingness + of mid-summer still reigned at Pougues; and the scenery in which we + suddenly found ourselves, bosquets, dells, and glades, with all the charm + but without the savageness of the forest, recalled the loveliest lines of + the laziest poet:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Was naught around but images of rest, + And flowery beds, that slumberous influence kest{1}, + Sleep-soothing groves and quiet lawns between, + From poppies breathed; and beds of pleasant green.” + </pre> + <p> + {Footnote 1: Cast} + </p> + <p> + A drive of a few minutes had landed us in the heart of this little + Paradise, baths and Casino standing in the midst of park-like grounds. + Apparently Pougues, that is to say, the Pougues-les-Eaux of later days, + has been cut out of natural woodland, the Casino gardens and its + surroundings being rich in forest trees of superb growth and great + variety. The wealth of foliage gives this new fashionable little + watering-place an enticingly rural appearance, nor is the attraction of + water wholly wanting. To quote once more a most quotable, if little read, + poet:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Meantime, unnumbered glittering streamlets played, + And hurled everywhere their water’s sheen, + That, as they bickered through the sunny glade, + Though restless still, themselves a lulling murmur made.” + </pre> + <p> + A pretty little lake, animated with swans, varies the woodland scenery, + and tropical birds in an aviary lend brilliant bits of colour. The usual + accessories of a health resort are, of course, here—reading room, + concert hall, theatre, and other attractions, rapidly turning the place + into a lesser Vichy. The number and magnificence of the hotels, the villas + and <i>cottages</i>, that have sprung up on every side, bespeak the + popularity of Pougues-les-Eaux, as it is now styled, the surname adding + more dignity than harmoniousness. One advantage Pougues possesses over its + rivals, is position. At Aix-les-Bains, Plombières, Salins, and how many + other inland spas, you are literally wedged in between shelving hills. If + you want to enjoy wide horizons, and anything like a breeze, you must get + well outside the town. Never in hot, dusty, crowded cities have I felt so + half-suffocated as at the two first named places. Pougues, on the + contrary, lies in a broad expanse of beautifully varied woodland and + champaign, no more appropriate site conceivable for the now popular + air-cure. “Pougues-les-Eaux, Cure d’Eau and Cure d’Air,” is now its proud + title, folks flocking hither, not only to imbibe its delicious, ice-cold, + sparkling waters, but to drink in its highly nourishing air. The + iron-gaseous waters resemble in properties those of Spa and Vichy. From + one to five tumblers are ordered a day, according to the condition of the + drinker, a little stroll between each dose being advisable. With regard to + the air-cure, visitors are reminded that at Pougues they find the four + kinds of walking exercise recommended by a German specialist, namely, that + on quite level ground; secondly, a very gradual climb; thirdly, a somewhat + steeper bit of up-hill; and, fourthly, the really arduous ascent of Mont + Givre. In order to entice health-seekers, all kinds of gratifications + await them on the summit, restaurant, dairy, reading room, tennis court, + and croquet ground, to say nothing of a panorama almost unrivalled in + eastern France. We have, indeed, climbed the Eiffel Tower, in other words, + are on a level with that final stage from which floats the Tricolour. + Looking east we behold the sombre Morvan and Nevers rising above the + Loire, whilst westward, beyond the plain and the Loire, may be descried + the cathedral of Bourges. How many regions visited and revisited by myself + now lie before my eyes as on a map—the Berri, Georges Sand’s + country, the little Celtic kingdom of the Morvan, on the borders of which, + for so many years, that charming writer, Philip Gilbert Hamerton, made his + home; the Nivernais, with its souvenirs of Vert-Vert and Mazarin, or, + rather, Mazarin and Vert-Vert, the Department of the Allier made from the + ancient province of the Bourbonnais. + </p> + <p> + A wanderer in France should never be without his Arthur Young. That “wise + and honest traveller,” of course, had been before us, but travelling in a + contrary direction. “From the hill that descends to Pougues,” he wrote on + his way from Nevers to Fontainebleau, in 1790, “is an extensive view to + the north, and after Pouilly a (<i>sic</i>) fine scenery, with the Loire + doubling through it.” But the great farmer made this journey in + mid-winter, thus missing its charm. And Arthur Young was ever too intent + upon crops and roots to notice wild flowers. Had he traversed this region + earlier in the year, he might have missed an exquisite feature, namely, + the sweeps of autumn crocus. Just now the rich pastures around Pougues, as + well as suburban lawns and wayside spaces, were tinted with delicate + mauve, the ground being literally carpeted with these flowers. It was as + if the lightest possible veil of pale purple covered the turf, the same + profusion being visible on every side. + </p> + <p> + One final word about this sweet and most unmusically named place. On no + occasion and nowhere have I been received with more cordiality than at + dear little Pougues, a place I was told there utterly ignored by my + country people. I do honestly believe, indeed, that myself and fellow + traveller were the first English folk to wander about those delicious + gardens, and taste the incomparable waters, cool, sparkling, invigorating + as those of Spa. + </p> + <p> + One enterprising proprietor of an excellent hotel was so anxious to secure + an English <i>clientèle</i>, the best <i>clientèle</i> in the world, so + hotel keepers aver, that she offered me a handsome percentage on any + visitors I would send her. In the most delicate manner I could command, I + gave her to understand that my inquiries about Pougues were not made from + a business point of view, but that I should certainly proclaim its many + attractions on the house-tops. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. — NEVERS AND MOULINS. + </h2> + <p> + I found the well-remembered Hôtel de France much as I had left it, just + upon twenty years before, every whit as quiet, comfortable, and moderate + in price, indeed, one of the best provincial hotels of France. The dear + old woman then employed as waitress, had, of course, long since gone to + her rest, and the landlord and landlady were new to me. But, the + traditions of an excellent house were evidently kept up, accommodation, + meanwhile, having been greatly enlarged. + </p> + <p> + A place is like a book; if worth knowing at all, to be returned to again + and again. After the first brief visit so many years ago, I wrote, “I envy + the traveller who for the first time stands on the bridge of Nevers.” And + more imposing, more exhilarating still, seemed the view from the same spot + now; under the brilliant sky, in the clear atmosphere, every feature + standing out as in a mosaic proudly dominating all, the Cathedral, with + its mass of sombre architecture; stretching wide to right and left, the + gay, prosperous-looking city; white villas rising one above the other, + hanging gardens and terraced lawns, making greenery and verdure in + mid-air. On the occasion of my first visit in August, 1881, the Loire was + so low as to appear a mere thread of palest blue amid white sands; at the + time I now write of, broad and beautiful it flowed beneath the noble + bridge, a deep twilight sky reflected in its limpid waters. + </p> + <p> + How well I remember the first sight of this scene years ago! Then it was + early morning of market day, and, pouring in from the country, I had met + crowds of peasants with their products, the men in blue blouses, the women + in neat white coiffes, some bearing huge baskets on their heads, others + drawing heavily laden barrows, driving donkey-carts, the piled-up fruit + and vegetables making a blaze of colour. For three sous I recorded the + purchase of more wild strawberries, peaches, and greengages than I knew + what to do with, each grower doing business on his own account, no + middleman to share his profits; choicest fruit and vegetables to be had + almost for the asking. On this lovely Sunday evening plenty of peasant + folk were about, the men fishing in the Loire, the women minding their + children under the trees. But I noted here, as elsewhere, a gradual + disappearance of the blue blouse and white coiffe. Broadcloth and bonnets + are fast superseding the homely, picturesque dress of former days. + </p> + <p> + The aerial residences just mentioned are characteristic of riverside + Nevers. Craning our necks as we strolled to and fro, we remarked how much + life in such altitudes must resemble that of a balloon, folks being thus + lifted above the hubbub, malodours, and microbes of the human bee-hive + below. For my own part I prefer a turnpike level, despite the engaging + aspect of those rose-girt verandahs, bowers, and lawns on a level with the + cathedral tower. + </p> + <p> + “Nevers makes a fine appearance, rising proudly from the Loire,” wrote + Arthur Young, “but on the first entrance it is like a thousand other + places.” + </p> + <p> + But the indefatigable apostle of the turnip had no time for archaeology on + his great tour, or he would have discovered that Nevers possesses more + than one architectural gem of the first water. The cathedral certainly, + alike without and within, must take rank after those of Chartres, Le Mans, + Reims, and how many others! but the exquisite little church of St. Étienne + and the Ducal Palace, are both perfect in their way, and will enchant all + lovers of harmony and proportion. The first, another specimen of so-called + Romanesque-Burgundian, has to be looked for, standing as it does in a kind + of <i>cul de sac</i>; the second occupies a conspicuous site, forms, + indeed, the centre-piece and crowning ornament of the town. Daintiest of + the dainty, this fairy-like Italian palace in the heart of France, reminds + us that once upon a time Nevers was the seat of Italian dukes, the last of + whom was a nephew of Mazarin. The great Cardinal, “whose heart was more + French than his speech,” and who served France so well, despite his + nationality and his nepotism, having purchased the Nivernais of a + Gonzague, finally incorporated it into the French crown in 1659. + </p> + <p> + To this day, Nevers remains true to its Italian traditions. Go into the + tiniest suburban street, enter the poorest little general shop, and you + are reminded of the art that made the city famous hundreds of years ago, + an art introduced by a Duke of Mantua, relation of Catherine de Medicis. + It was in the sixteenth century, that this feudal lord of the Nivernais + summoned Italian potters hither, among these a native of Faenza. Under his + direction a manufactory of faïence was established, the ware resembling + that of his native city, scriptural and allegorical subjects traced in + manganese. The unrivalled blue glaze of Nevers is of later date. Just as + Rouen potters were celebrated for their reds, the Nivernais surpassed them + in blues. No French or foreign potters ever achieved an azure of equal + depth and purity. + </p> + <p> + The golden age of Nevers majolica belongs to that early period, but the + highly ornamented faïence now produced in its ateliers, shows taste and + finish, and in the town itself may be found charming things as cheap as, + if not cheaper than, our commonest earthenware. + </p> + <p> + As I write, I have before me some purchases made at a small general + dealer’s, a plate, and two small amphora-shaped vases, costing a few sous + each. The colouring of this cheap pottery is very harmonious, and the + glaze remarkable for its brilliance. The shopwoman, with whom we had a + pleasant chat, did not seem astonished at our admiration for her goods. + </p> + <p> + “I sell lots of such things as you have just bought, to folks like you” <i>(de + votre genre)</i>, she said, “strangers who like to carry away a souvenir + of the place, and all my ware comes from the same manufacture.” + </p> + <p> + To-day Nevers thrives upon ornamental majolica. A hundred and ten years + ago it throve upon plates and dishes commemorating the Revolution. In the + upper storey of the Ducal Palace we may read revolutionary annals in + faïence, every event being memorialised by a piece of porcelain. + </p> + <p> + Curious enough is this record in earthenware, one stormy day after another + being thus commemorated; and perhaps more curious still is the evident + care with which these fragile objects have been preserved. Throughout the + Napoleonic era they might pass—had not gold pieces then on one side + the portrait of “Napoleon Empereur,” on the obverse “République Français”?—but + when Louis XVIII was brought back by his foreign friends, how was it that + there came no general smashing, a great flinging of revolutionary + potsherds to the dunghill? Safe enough now is the Nivernais collection, + under the roof of the Ducal Palace, the rude designs and commonness of the + ware strikingly contrasted with the exquisite things around. + </p> + <p> + In close proximity to these cheap plates, dedicated to the Phrygian cap + and sans-culottism, are the very choicest specimens of Nevers faïence of + priceless value. Why the municipality, as a rule so generous towards the + public, should thus inconveniently house its treasure, is inconceivable. + </p> + <p> + The museum is reached by a long spiral staircase, without banister or + support, and a false step must certainly result in a broken leg, or, + perhaps, neck! The room also contains a striking portrait of Theodore de + Bèze, the great French reformer, who, then an aged man, penned a letter, + sublime in its force and simplicity, to Henry IV., conjuring him not to + abandon the Protestant faith. The mention of this fact recalls an + interesting experience. I here allude to the incontestable advance of + Protestantism in France. The traveller whose acquaintance with the country + began a quarter of a century ago, cannot fail to be impressed with this + fact. Alike in towns large and small, new places of worship have sprung + up, Nevers now possessing an Evangelical church. And good was it to hear + the appreciation of the little Protestant community from my Catholic + landlady. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “the Protestants here are worthy of all respect (<i>dignes + gens</i>) and the pastor also; I esteem him much.” Evidently the + Lemaitre-Coppée-Déroulède dictum, “Only the Catholic can be called a + Frenchman,” is not accepted at Nevers. + </p> + <p> + In dazzlingly brilliant weather, and amid glowing scenery, we continued + our journey to Moulins, as we travelled by rail, and not by road unable to + identify “the little opening in the road leading to a thicket” where + Sterne discovered Maria. Has anyone ever identified the spot I wonder, + poplar, small brook and the rest? + </p> + <p> + Too soon were we also for “the heyday of the vintage, when Nature is + pouring her abundance into everyone’s lap.” For the vintage, indeed, one + must go farther. Sterne must have been thinking of Burgundy when he penned + that line, or the phylloxera has brought about a transformation, vineyards + here being changed into pastures. The scenery of the Allier, like that + around Autun, recalls many parts of England. Meadows set around with + hedges; little rises of green hill here and there; cattle browsing by + quiet streams; just such pictures as we may see in our own Midlands. I + well remember a remark of the late Philip Gilbert Hamerton on this + subject. We were strolling near his home, in the neighbourhood of Autun, + one day, when he pointed to the landscape over against us. + </p> + <p> + “How like that is to many an English scene,” he said; “and maybe it was + the English aspect of this region that tempted me to settle here.” I had + paid Moulins a hasty visit many years before, but, unlike Nevers and so + many French towns, the <i>chef-lieu</i> of the Allier does not improve + upon further acquaintance. And I surmise, that such is the impression of + my country people generally. English travellers must be few and far + between at Moulins, or why should the appearance of two English ladies + attract so much curiosity? Wherever we went, the good folks of Moulins, + alike rich and poor, turned round to have a good look at us, even stopping + short to stare. All this was done without any rudeness or remark, but such + extraordinary behaviour can only be accounted for by the foregoing + supposition. For some reason or other our compatriots do not, like Sterne + and Maria go to Moulins. + </p> + <p> + Why should an essentially aristocratic place be so ill-kept, not to say + dirty? The town is no centre of industry. Tall factory chimneys do not + disfigure its silhouette or blacken its walls. Handsome equipages enliven + the streets. But the municipality, like certain saints of old, seem to + have taken vows of perpetual uncleanliness. Alike the scavenger’s broom + and the dust-cart appear to be unknown. + </p> + <p> + Whilst a riverside walk at Nevers presents nothing but cheerful bustle and + an aspect of prosperity, here you approach the Allier through scenes of + squalor and torpid neglect. The poorer inhabitants, too, are very + un-French in appearance, wanting that personal tidiness characteristic of + their country people in general. An aristocratic place, means an + Ultramontane place, and every third man you meet in Moulins wears a + soutane. What so many curés, Jesuits and Christian Brothers can find to do + passes the ordinary comprehension. + </p> + <p> + However interesting twins may be in the human family, monumental duality + is far from successful. Unfortunately for this delightfully picturesque + old town, its graceful Cathedral has, in the grand new church of + Sacre-Coeur, a double. But— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “As moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto wine,” + </pre> + <p> + is the second self, the never to be obliterated shadow of the first and + far more beautiful church. + </p> + <p> + Two towers of equal height, twice two spires like as cherries and in close + juxtaposition rise above the town, an ensemble spoiling the symmetry of + outline and general effect. + </p> + <p> + How much better off was Moulins when, instead of four spires, she gloried + in two? Then, of a verity, the city would have presented as noble a view + as those of La Charité and Nevers from the Loire. + </p> + <p> + The ancient château now used as a prison and the Jacquemart or clock tower + are rare old bits of architecture, of themselves worth the journey to + Moulins. Jacquemart, it may be here explained, is a corruption of Jacques + Marques, the name of a famous Flemish clockmaker who lived in the + fourteenth century. Amongst other achievements of this artist is the clock + of Nôtre Dame, Dijon, as curious in its way as the still more celebrated + cock-crowing time-piece of Strasburg, and declared by Froissart to be the + wonder of Christendom. World-wide became the reputation of Jacques + Marques, and thus it came about that clock towers generally were called + after his masterpieces. + </p> + <p> + On my former hurried visit to Moulins, as was the case with my + predecessor, Arthur Young over a hundred years before, “other occupations” + had “driven even Maria and the poplar from my head, and left me no room + for the Tombeau de Montmorenci.” In other words, I had visited Rome + without seeing the Pope. + </p> + <p> + On this second, and more leisurely visit, I had ample opportunity of + making up for the omission. Truly, the tomb of the last Montmorency + deserves a deliberate examination. It is one of the most sumptuous + monuments in the world and as a testimony of wifely devotion worthy to be + ranked with that of the Carian Queen to her lord, the Mausolus, whose name + is perpetuated in the word mausoleum. + </p> + <p> + French history cannot be at everyone’s fingers’ ends, so a word here about + the last of the Montmorencys, victim not so much of Richelieu’s policy as + of a kinsman’s meanness. + </p> + <p> + When the dashing, devil-me-care, hitherto fortunate Henri de Montmorency, + Marshal of France and Governor of Languedoc, plotted against Richelieu or + rather against the Royal supremacy, it was mainly at the instigation of + Gaston of Orleans. No more abject figure in French annals than this + unworthy son of the great Gascon, Henri IV., thus portrayed by one whose + tongue was as sharp as his sword: “Gaston of Orleans,” wrote Richelieu, + “engaged in every enterprise because he had not the will to resist + persuasion, dishonourably drawing back from want of courage to support his + associates.” + </p> + <p> + In the conspiracy of Montmorency, Gaston had played the part of + instigator, leaving the other to his fate as soon as the situation became + perilous. Every effort was made to save the duke, but in vain, and at the + age of thirty-seven he ended a brilliant, adventuresome life on the + scaffold at Toulouse. + </p> + <p> + One thought was uppermost in my mind when, a few years ago, I visited that + city, the only French city that welcomed the Inquisition. As I stood in + the elegant Capitol, musing on Montmorency’s story, it occurred to me how + few of us realise what a respecter of persons was French law under the + ancien régime. Hard as seems the fate of this dashing young duke, we must + remember what would have been his punishment, but for his titles of + nobility. Death swift and sudden, in other words, by decapitation, was the + choicest prerogative of the nobility; tortures before and after + condemnation, breaking on the wheel, burning alive, and other hideous + ends, being the lot of the people. + </p> + <p> + This monument, so noteworthy alike from a historic and artistic point of + view, was saved from destruction by ready wit. When, in the ferment of + revolution, the iconoclastic spirit had got the upper hand, a citizen of + Moulins met a mob, bent on destroying what they supposed to be the tomb of + some hated grand seigneur, oppressor of the poor. Following the rabble to + the convent, no sooner did he see the mallet and hammer raised than this + worthy bourgeois, who himself deserves a monument, shouted, “Hands off, + citizens! Yonder reposes no aristocrat, but as good a citizen as any + man-jack of you, aye, who had the honour of losing his head for having + conspired against a King.” + </p> + <p> + The crowd melted away without a word, the monument remains intact, and + generations have had bequeathed to them an example of what presence of + mind may effect, not with nerve, sinew, or bodily prowess, but with the + tongue. The Convent of the Visitation, to which Montmorency’s widow + retired, and in the chapel of which she raised this memorial, is now + converted into a Lycée. It is a handsome building and was built by Madame + de Chantal, foundress of the Order of Visitadines, or nuns whose office it + was to visit the sick. This pious lady, the friend of St. François de + Sales, and herself canonised by Pope Benoît XIV., was the bosom friend of + Felicia Orsini, Montmorency’s wife, who succeeded her as Superior of the + convent on her death. + </p> + <p> + But even an abbess, who had taken the veil, could not refuse visits, some + of which must have been as a second entering of iron into this proud + woman’s soul. The coward Gaston, when passing through Moulins, sought an + interview. Richelieu, also, whose emissary received the following message: + “Tell your master, that my tears reply for me and that I am his humble + servant.” Years after, Louis XIV. visited the once beautiful and + high-spirited Italian, now an aged abbess occupying a bare cell and from + his lips, despot and voluptuary though he was, might always be expected + the right word in the right place. “Madame,” he said, on taking leave, “we + may learn something here. I need not ask you to pray for the King.” + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: TOMB OF MONTMORENCY, MOULINS.} + </p> + <p> + But interest in personalities is leading me from what I have set myself to + describe, namely, portraiture in marble. For this magnificent work thus + perpetuates the last of the Montmorencys and his wife as they were when + separated for ever in their prime. Imposing although the monument is as a + whole, these two figures in white marble, standing out against a dark + background, engross attention. The entire work covers the wall behind the + high altar, the sculptures being in pure white marble, the framework in + black. Dismissing the niched Mars and Hercules on the one side, the + allegorised Religion and Charity on the other, we study the central + figures both offering interest of quite different kind. + </p> + <p> + Why a dashing soldier and courtier of the Renaissance should be + represented in the guise of a Roman warrior, is an anomaly, irreconcilable + as that of pagan gods and the personification of Christian attributes here + placed vis-à-vis. Perhaps the grief-stricken wife, who was, as it appears, + of a highly romantic and adventuresome turn, wished thus to commemorate + the heroic qualities of her husband; she might also have wished to + dissociate him altogether from his own time, a period of which, in her + eyes, he would be the victim. Be this as it may, the Roman undress and + accoutrements do not harmonise with a physiognomy essentially French and + French of a given epoch. Whilst the interest aroused by the Duchess’s + effigy is purely artistic, that of her husband excites curiosity rather + than admiration. The head is strangely poised, much as if the artist + intended to suggest the fact of decapitation; obliquity of vision, a + defect hereditary in the Montmorencys, is also indicated, adding + singularity. The half-recumbent figure by the Duke’s side, is of rare + pathos and beauty. Almost angelic in its resignation and religious fervour + is the upturned face. The drapery, too, shows classic grace and + simplicity, as strongly contrasted with the martial travesty opposite as + are the two countenances in expression. + </p> + <p> + Long will art-lovers linger before this monument raised by wifely + devotion, a monument, with so many another, perpetuating rather the + devotion of the survivor than claims on posterity of the dead. And let not + hasty travellers follow Arthur Young’s example, jotting down, after a + visit to Moulins, “No room for the Tombeau de Montmorenci.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. — SOUVIGNY AND SENS. + </h2> + <p> + A quarter of an hour by rail, an hour and a quarter by road, from Moulins + lies Souvigny, the cradle of the Bourbons, and as interesting and + delightful a little excursion as travellers can desire. On a glowing + September morning the scenery of the Allier looked its very best. Never as + long as I live shall I forget the beauty of that drive. Lightest, + loveliest cumuli floated athwart a pure, not too dazzlingly blue sky, + before us stretched avenue after avenue of poplar or plane trees, + veritable aisles of green letting in the azure, reminding me of the famous + Hobbema in our National Gallery. At many points the landscape recalled our + native land; but for the white oxen of the Morvan, we might have fancied + ourselves in Sussex or the Midlands. And cloudage, to borrow an expression + of Coleridge, suggested England, too. Clouds and skies of the Midlands, + none more poetic or pictorial throughout England seemed here—those + skies above the vast sweeps of undulating chalk having a peculiar depth + and tenderness, the clouds a marvellous brilliance, transparence, and + variety of form! So beautiful are those cloud-pictures that we hardly + needed beauty below. Here on the road to Moulins we had both, the + landscape, if not romantic or striking, being rich in pastoral charm. + Arthur Young, who looked at every bit of country first and foremost from + the farmer’s point of view, was so much struck with the neighbourhood of + Moulins that, but for the Revolution, he would very probably have become a + French landowner. Just eight miles from the city he visited in August, + 1789, an estate was offered for sale by its possessor, the Marquis de + Goutte. “The finest climate in France, perhaps in Europe,” he wrote, “a + beautiful and healthy country, excellent roads, and navigation to Paris; + wine, game, fish, and everything appears on the table except the produce + of the tropics; a good house, a fine garden, with ready markets for every + kind of produce; and, above all the rest, three thousand acres of enclosed + land, capable in a very little time of being, without expense, quadrupled + in its produce—altogether formed a picture sufficient to tempt a man + who had been twenty-five years in the constant practice of husbandry + adapted to the soil.” The price of the whole was only thirteen thousand + and odd pounds, and the seller took care to explain that “all seigneurial + rights <i>haute justice</i>” (that is to say, the privilege of hanging + poachers, and others, at the château gates), were included in the purchase + money. But the country was already in a ferment, and had our countryman + struck a bargain then and there, the last-named extras would have proved a + dead letter. Seigneurial rights were being abolished, or rather + surrendered, at the very time that this transaction was under + consideration. As Arthur Young tells us, he might as well have asked for + an elephant at Moulins as for a newspaper. No one knew, or apparently + cared to know, what was taking place in Paris. On asking his landlady for + a newspaper, she replied she had none, they were too dear. Whereupon the + irate traveller wrote down in his diary: “it is a great pity that there is + not a camp of <i>brigands</i> in your coffee room, Madame Bourgeau.” + </p> + <p> + This part of France is not a region of prosperous peasant farmers, nor is + it a chess-board of tiny crops, the four or five acre freeholds of small + owners cut up into miniature fields. I had a long talk with a countryman, + and he informed me that, as in Arthur Young’s time, the land belongs to + large owners, and is still, as in his time, cultivated by <i>métayers</i> + on the half-profit system. At the present day, however, another class has + sprung up, that of tenant farmers on a considerable scale; these, in their + turn, sublet to peasants who give their labour and with whom they divide + the profits. Now, the half-profit system does certainly answer elsewhere; + in the Indre, for example, it has proved a stepping-stone to the position + of small capitalist. Here I learned, with regret, that such is not the + case. Land, even in the highly-favoured Allier, cannot afford a triple + revenue. In the Indre, on the contrary, there is no intermediary between + land-owners and <i>métayers</i>, the former even selling small holdings to + their labourers as soon as they have saved a little capital. + </p> + <p> + “No; folks are not prosperous hereabouts,” said my informant. “There are + no manufacturers at Moulins to enrich the people, and, what with high + rents and low prices, the half-profit system does not pay. If money is + made, it is by the tenant-farmer, not by the <i>métayer</i>.” Curious and + instructive is the fact that the most Catholic and aristocratic centres in + France should often be the poorest; Moulins and the Allier afford but one + example out of many. + </p> + <p> + A beautiful drive of an hour and a quarter brought us within sight of + Souvigny. Towering above the bright landscape rose the Abbey Church, its + sober dun, red and brown hues, the quaint houses of similar colour huddled + around it, contrasted with the dazzling brightness of sky and verdure. + </p> + <p> + Still more striking the contrast between the pile so majestic and + surroundings so homely! Here, as at La Charité, nothing is in keeping with + the mass of architecture, which, in its apogee, stood for the town itself, + what of town, indeed, there was being the merest accessory, inevitable but + unimposing entourage, growing up bit by bit. The present population of + Souvigny is something over three thousand, doubtless, as in the case of La + Charité, less than that of its former monastery and dependencies. As we + wind upwards, thus flanking the town and abbey, we realise the superb + position of this cradle and mausoleum of the Bourbons. For Souvigny was + both. Two thousand and odd years ago, here, in the very heart of France, + Adhémar, a brave soldier, nothing more, became the first “Sire de + Bourbon,” Charles le Simple having given him the fief of Bourbon as a + reward for military services, its chief establishing himself at Souvigny, + and of course founding a religious house. The Benedictine abbey, being + enriched with the bones of two saints, former Abbots of Cluny, became a + famous pilgrimage. Adhémar’s successors transferred their seat of + seigneurial government to Bourbon l’Archimbault, but for centuries here + they found their last resting-place, and here they are commemorated in + marble. + </p> + <p> + Indescribably picturesque is this whilom capital of the tiny feudal + kingdom; topsy-turvy, higgledy-piggledy, coated of many colours are its + zig-zag little streets, one house tumbling on the back of its neighbour, + another having contrived to wedge itself between two of portlier bulk, a + third coolly taking possession of some inviting frontage, shutting out its + fellow’s light, air, and sunshine; here, meeting the eye, breakneck alley, + there aerial terrace, and on all sides architectural reminders of the + Souvigny passed away, the Souvigny once so splendid and important, now + reduced to nothingness, as is, politically speaking, the so-called House + of France. + </p> + <p> + The Abbey Church, like that of La Charité, shows a mixture of many styles, + the general effect being magnificent in the extreme. Throughout eastern + France you find no more imposing façade. But, as observes M. Emile + Montégut, in the work before quoted, the church has been created as Nature + creates a soil, each age contributing its layer; Byzantine, Roman, Gothic, + each style is here seen, the latter in its purity. + </p> + <p> + Whilst the church itself stands taut and trim, a mass of sculptured + masonry in rich browns and reds, the interior shows melancholy + dilapidation. But, indeed, for the stern lessons of history, how sad were + the spectacle of these mutilated effigies in marble, exquisite sculptures + when fresh from the artist’s hand, to-day torsos so hideously hacked and + hewn as hardly to look human! We cannot, however, forget that the history + of races, as of nations and individuals, is retributive. When the + ‘Roi-Soleil,’ that incarnation of the Bourbon spirit, was so inflated with + his own personality as to forbid the erection of any statue throughout + France but his own, he paved the way for the revolutionary iconoclasts of + a century later. It was simply a recurrence of the old fatality, the + inevitable moral, since History began. + </p> + <p> + For here, defaced to such a point that sculptures they can be called no + longer, are memorialised not only Louis XIV.‘s ancestors, but his + offspring, namely, Louise Marie, one of his seven children by Madame de + Montespan, all, as we know, with those of Madame de la Vallière, + legitimised, ennobled and enriched. Pierre de Beaujeu, husband of the + great Anne of France, was also buried here. Anne it was who, on the death + of Louis XI., governed France with all her father’s astuteness, but + without his cruelty, and pleasant and comforting it is to find that Duke + Pierre, her husband, seconded her in every way, himself remaining in the + background, acting to perfection the difficult rôle of Prince Consort. The + sight of these once exquisite marbles may perhaps awaken in other minds + the reflection that crossed my own. Heretical as I shall seem, I venture + to express the opinion, that in such cases one of two courses are + advisable, either the removal of the torsos, or restoration; why should + not some genius be able in this field to do what Viollet le Duc has so + successfully achieved in another? But for that great architect, the + cathedral of Moulins—and how many other beautiful French churches?—would + long ago have tumbled to pieces, been handed over as storage to corn + merchants, or brewers! Is it so much more difficult to restore a marble + effigy, whether of human being or animal, than a façade or an altar-piece? + If impossible, then, I say, let broken marbles like those of Souvigny be + hidden from view. + </p> + <p> + The agreeable town of Sens on the Yonne is here described for + completeness’ sake. Although not lying in the Bourbonnais, Sens formed the + last stage of our little tour in this direction, a direct line of railway + connecting the town with Moulins. What a change we found here! Instead of + unswept, malodorous streets, and sordid riverside quarters, all was clean, + trim, and cared for, one wholly uncommon feature lending especial charm. + </p> + <p> + For the tutelar goddess of Sens, benignant genius presiding over the city, + is a stream, or rather parent of many streams, that water the streets of + their own free will, supplying thirsty beasts with copious draughts in + torrid weather, and keeping up a perpetual air of rusticity and coolness. + </p> + <p> + Wherever you go you are followed by the musical ripple of these runlets, + purling brooks so crystalline that you are tempted to look for + forget-me-nots. + </p> + <p> + The voluntariness of this street watering constitutes its witchery. Post + haste flows each tiny course; not having a moment to spare seems every + current. Need we wonder at the fabled Arethusas and Sabrinas of more + youthful worlds? + </p> + <p> + Of itself Sens is very engaging. We can easily understand the fact of the + late Mr. Hamerton having made his first French home here. In the memoir of + her husband, affixed to his autobiography, Mrs. Hamerton gives us + particulars, not only of individual, but of super-personal interest. I use + the last expression because the idiosyncrasy described is common to most + men and women of genius or exceptional talent. The charming essayist then, + the art-critic, gifted with so much insight and feeling settled down at + Sens we are told, for the purpose of painting ‘commission pictures.’ His + career was to be decided by the brush and not by the pen. The author of + “The Intellectual Life,” with how many other works of distinction, had, at + the outset, wholly mistaken his vocation. “The first thing considered by + Gilbert when he settled at Sens,” writes Mrs. Hamerton, “was the choice of + subjects for his commission pictures, which he intended to paint directly + from nature; and he soon selected panoramic views from the top of a + vine-clad hill, called Saint Bon, which commands an extensive view of the + river Yonne, and of the plains about it.” Unfortunately, rather we should + say fortunately, anyhow, for the reading world, the ‘commission pictures’ + were declined. The disappointed artist, out of humour with Sens, made a + series of journeys in search of an ideal home, the result being that most + entertaining and successful book, “Round My House,” and the final devotion + of its author to letters. + </p> + <p> + Sens might well seem an ideal place of abode to many. Formed from the + ancient Province of Burgundy, the Department of the Yonne has the charm of + Burgundian scenery, with the addition of a wide, lovely river. All + travellers on the Lyons-Marseilles Railway will recall the noble + appearance of the town from the railway—the Cathedral, with its one + lofty tower, rising above grey roofs, no factory chimneys marring the + outline, and, between bright stretches of country, the Yonne, not least + enchanting of French rivers, if not the most striking or romantic, perhaps + the sweetest and most soothing in the world. The favourable impression of + Sens gained by this fleeting view, is more than justified on nearer + acquaintance. The Cathedral, externally less imposing than those of + Bourges, Rheims, or even Rodez and Beauvais, is of a piece alike without + and within, no tasteless excrescence disfiguring its outer walls, little + or no modern tawdriness to be seen inside, an architectural gem of great + purity. For the curious in such matters, the sacristy offers many wonders, + among others a large fragment of the true cross, presented to Sens by + Charlemagne. Less apocryphal are the vestments of our own Archbishop + Thomas, alb, girdle, stole, and the rest, all most carefully preserved and + exhibited in a glass case. It will be remembered that, when the turbulent + Thomas of London, afterwards known as Becket, was condemned as a traitor, + he fled to France. “This is a fearful day,” said one of his attendants on + hearing the sentence. “The Day of Judgment will be more fearful,” replied + Thomas. It was not at Sens, however, that the refugee took up his abode, + but in the Abbey of St. Colombe, now in ruins hard by. + </p> + <p> + On the other side of the bridge, crowning an islet, stands one of those + curious church<i>lets</i>, or churc<i>lings</i> I was about to say, that + possess so powerful a fascination for the archaeological mind. + Particularly striking was the little Romanesque interior in the September + twilight, a picturesque group of Sisters of St. Vincent de Paul, + rehearsing canticles with their pupils at one end, the subdued light just + enabling us to realise the harmony of proportions. This little church of + St. Maurice dating from the twelfth century, partly restored in the + sixteenth, must not on any account be missed. Its pretty spire crowns the + Isle d’Yonne, or island of the Yonne. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. — ARCIS-SUR-AUBE. + </h2> + <p> + Late and tired, I arrived, one September evening, at Arcis-sur-Aube, + birthplace and home of the great Danton. + </p> + <p> + I had brought with me letters of introduction to friends’ friends, unaware + that at such a moment the sign-manual of the President of the Republic + himself would hardly have secured me a night’s lodging. For at this + especial moment the little town, from end to end, was in the possession of + the military headquarters of that year’s manoeuvres. + </p> + <p> + Every private dwelling showed a notice of the officers in command + sheltered under its roof. Here and there, the presence of sentinels + indicated the location of generals. The hotels were crowded from basement + to attic, folks who let lodgings for hire had made bargains long before, + whilst the very poorest made up beds, or turned out of their own, to + accommodate the rank and file. At the extreme end of the town, close to + the ancestral home of the Dantons, stands the straggling old-fashioned + Hôtel de la Poste, a hostelry, I should suppose, not in the least changed + since the days of the great conventionnel. All here was bustle and + excitement. Mine host was spitting game in the kitchen, and could hardly + find time to answer my application; soldiers and officers’ servants, + scullions and men of all-work, almost knocked each other down in the + inn-yard, the landlady, generally so affable a personage in provincial + France, gave me the cold shoulder. I turned out in the forlorn hope of + finding a good Samaritan. Of course, to present a letter of introduction + under such circumstances, was quite out of the question, my errand would + have been the last hair to break the camel’s back, final embarrassment of + an already overdone hostess. But night was at hand; the last train to + Troyes, the nearest town, had gone, no other would pass through + Arcis-sur-Aube until the small hours of the morning. Unless I could + procure a room, therefore, I should be in the position of a homeless + vagrant. Well, not to be dismayed, I set out making inquiries right and + left, to my astonishment being rebuffed rather surlily and with looks of + suspicion. The fact is, during these manoeuvres, a lady arriving at + head-quarters alone is apt to be looked upon with no favourable eye. + Especially do people wonder what on earth can bring a foreigner to an out + of the way country place at such a time—she must surely be a spy, + pickpocket or something worse! + </p> + <p> + After having vainly made inquiries to no purpose along the principal + street, I turned into a grocer’s shop in a smaller thoroughfare; two young + assistants were chatting without anything to do, and they looked so + good-natured that I entered and begged them to help me. + </p> + <p> + Very likely an English hobbledehoy similarly appealed to would have + blushed, giggled, and got rid of the stranger as quickly as possible; + French youths of all ranks have rather more of the man of the world in + them. The elder of the lads became at once interested in my case, and + manifested a keen desire to be serviceable. Hailing a little girl from + without, he bade her conduct me to a certain Mademoiselle D—— + who let rooms and might have one vacant. The little maid, fetching a + companion to accompany us—here also was a French trait; whatever is + done, must be done sociably—took me to the address given; the + demoiselle in question was, however, not at home, but the concierge said + that, another demoiselle living near would probably be able to accommodate + me, which she did. Before I proceed with my narrative, however, I must + mention the ill fortune that befell my useful little cicerone. + </p> + <p> + On taking leave I had given her half a franc, a modest recompense enough + as I thought. The following story would seem to show that the good people + of Arcis have not yet become imbued with modern ideas about money, also + that they have a high notion of the value of truth. To my dismay I learnt + next morning that the poor little girl had been soundly slapped, her + mother refusing to believe that she had come honestly by so much money; as + my hostess observed, the good woman might at least have waited for + corroboration of the child’s statement. A box of chocolate, transmitted by + a third hand, I have no doubt acted as a consolation. + </p> + <p> + Dear kind mademoiselle Jenny M—— How warmly she welcomed me to + her homely hearth! My little purple rosette, insignia of an officer of + Public Instruction of France, proved a bond of union. This excellent woman + was the daughter of a schoolmaster who had himself worn the academic + ribbon, a French schoolmaster’s crowning ambition. He had left his + daughter, in comfortable circumstances, that is to say, she enjoyed an + annuity of £40 a year, the possession of a large, roomy house, part of + which she let, and half an acre of garden full as it could be of flowers, + fruit and vegetables. We at once became excellent friends. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” she said, “I am very sorry that my best bedroom is given up to + soldiers, two poor young fellows I took in the other night out of + compassion. You can, however, have the little back room looking on to the + garden, it is rather in disorder, but you will find the bed comfortable. I + cannot offer to do much for you in the way of waiting, having a lame foot, + but a woman brings me milk early in the morning and she shall put a cupful + outside your door; bread and butter you will find in the little kitchen + next to your room.” + </p> + <p> + I assured her that such an arrangement would suit me very well, as I had + my own spirit lamp and could make tea for myself; then we went downstairs. + The great difficulty that night was to get anything to eat. The soldiers + had eaten every body out of house and home, she assured me there was not + such a thing as a chop or an egg to be had in the town for love or money. + Fortunately, I had the remains of a cold chicken in my lunch basket, and + this did duty for supper, my hostess pressing upon me some excellent + Bordeaux. + </p> + <p> + As we chatted, she mentioned the fact that two or three friends, much in + the same situation as herself, occupied the little houses running + alongside her garden. + </p> + <p> + “We are all old maids,” she informed me. + </p> + <p> + “Old maids,” quoth I, “how is that? I thought there were no single women + out of convents in France.” + </p> + <p> + “The thing,” she said, “has come about in this way—we have all + enough to live upon, and so many women worsen their condition by marriage, + instead of bettering it, that we made up our minds to live comfortably on + what we have got, and not trouble our heads about the men. We live very + happily together, and are all socialists, radicals, <i>libres penseuses</i> + and the rest. We read a great deal, and, as you will see to-morrow, my + father left me a good library.” + </p> + <p> + As we sat at table in the somewhat untidy kitchen, my fellow guests, the + conscripts, came in, they were pleasant, civil young fellows belonging to + different classes of life. One was a middle-class civilian from an + industrial city of the north, the other a homely peasant, son of the soil. + </p> + <p> + These conscripts, however poorly fed in barracks, fare like aldermen + during these manoeuvres, everybody giving them to eat and drink of their + best. They had just dined plentifully, but for all that, managed to get + down a bumper of wine immediately offered by Mademoiselle Jenny; a hunk of + Dijon gingerbread they did evidently find some difficulty in getting + through. We toasted each other in friendliest fashion, and the civilian, + out of compliment to myself, drank to the health of the English army. + </p> + <p> + Next morning I fared no less sumptuously than a soldier during the + manoeuvres. A savoury steam had announced game for our mid-day meal. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said my hostess, as she dished up and began to carve a fat + partridge cooked to a turn—“this bird that came so àpropos, is a + present from a great-nephew of Danton. He is the <i>juge de paix</i> here + and a good neighbour of mine. We will pay him a visit this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + Of this gentleman, of Danton’s home and family, I shall say something + later on. We made a round of visits that day, but the <i>juge de paix</i>, + who seemed to share the tastes of his great ancestor, was in the country + in search of more partridges. Other friends and acquaintances we found at + home; among these was a retired confectioner, who had once kept a shop in + Regent Street, and had told Mademoiselle Jenny that she would be delighted + to talk English with me. + </p> + <p> + Warmly welcomed I was by the portly, prosperous looking pastry-cook, who + was reading a newspaper and smoking a cigarette in a well-furnished, + comfortable parlour. But alas! thirty years had elapsed since his + departure from England, and during the interval he had never once + interchanged a word with any of my country-people. To his intense + mortification, he had completely lost hold of the English tongue! Another + acquaintance, an elderly woman, who seemed to be living on small + independent means, had a curious house pet. This, once a pretty little + frisking lamb, had now reached the proportions of a big fat sheep. So + docile and affectionate, however, was the animal, and so attached had the + good soul become to it, that a pet it seemed likely to remain to the end + of its days; the creature followed its mistress about like a dog. + </p> + <p> + The little town of Arcis-sur-Aube, like many another, is now deserted by + all who can get to livelier and more bustling centres. Tanneries, vest, + stocking and glove weaving and stitching, are the only resources of the + place. + </p> + <p> + During my stay, I made the acquaintance of a charming family engaged in + the latter trade. Stopping one day in front of a weaver’s open door to + watch him at work, I was cordially invited to enter. The head of the + house, one of those quiet, intelligent, dignified artisans so typical of + his class in France, was weaving vest sleeves at a hand loom, just as I + had seen, at St. Étienne, ribbon weavers pursuing their avocations at + home. As we chatted about his handicraft and its modest emoluments, his + little son came in from school, a bright lad who, to his father’s delight, + had lately gained prizes. It is curious that only one part of a vest, + stocking or glove is done by a single hand; some goods I found came to + this house to be finished and others were sent away to be made ready for + sale elsewhere. By-and-by, a pretty, refined girl, the daughter of the + house, came in and asked me if I would like to see what she was doing. + </p> + <p> + Forthwith she took me to a neat, cheerful little room upstairs overlooking + a garden. + </p> + <p> + On a table by the open window was a hand-sewing machine, and her + occupation was the ornamental stitching of silk and cotton gloves by + machinery. The pay seemed excessively low I thought, I believe something + like twopence per dozen pair, but the young machinist seemed perfectly + contented and happy. + </p> + <p> + “It is pleasant,” she said, “to be able to earn something at home and to + live with papa and mamma and my little brother.” + </p> + <p> + Before leaving, with the prettiest grace in the world, she begged my + acceptance of a dainty pair of lavender silk gloves knitted by her own + hands. + </p> + <p> + Some day I hope to revisit Arcis-sur-Aube, and meantime I hold occasional + intercourse by post with my friends in Danton’s town. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. — ARCIS-SUR-AUBE—(<i>continued</i>). + </h2> + <p> + But by far the most interesting acquaintance at this most historic little + town was the great-nephew of Danton. Middle-aged, unpretentious of aspect, + yet with that unmistakable look partly of dignified self-possession, + partly of authority, seldom absent from the French official, I looked in + vain for any likeness to the portraits of his great kinsman. Yet perhaps + in the stalwart figure, manly proportions and bronzed complexion, might be + traced some suggestion of the athlete, the strong swimmer, the bold + sportsman, whose mighty voice once made Europe tremble. The brother of + this gentleman also lived at Arcis-sur-Aube, but was absent during my + visit. The <i>juge de paix</i> and his family were on friendliest terms + with my hostess, and he would often drop in for a chat. + </p> + <p> + From him and other residents I gathered some interesting particulars about + the Danton family. The great tribune left two little sons, George and + Antoine, who grew up and resided in their ancestral home, hiding + themselves from the world. Their young step-mother it was whose memory, + when on the way to the guillotine, evoked from Danton the only betrayal of + personal emotion throughout his stormy career: “Must I leave thee for + ever, my beloved,” then, quickly recovering himself, cried “Danton, no + weakness!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Danton married again and is lost sight of. One of Danton’s sisters + entered a convent, as it was supposed hoping to expiate by a life given up + to prayer the crimes, as she deemed them, of her brother. Meantime, + appalled by the shadow of their father’s memory, George and Antoine + decided to remain celibate, a pair marked out for solitude and obloquy. + </p> + <p> + “Let the name of Danton perish from the recollection of man,” they said. + </p> + <p> + The elder, however, afterwards acknowledged and, I believe, legitimised a + daughter according to the merciful French law. Mademoiselle Danton became + Madame Menuel, and, strange as it may seem, at the time of my visit, this + direct descendant of Danton was still living. President Carnot had given + her a small pension in the form of a <i>bureau de tabac</i> at Troyes, + where she died in 1896, leaving a son, who some years ago was divorced + from his wife, emigrated to Buenos Ayres, and has never been heard of + since. It is supposed that he is dead. The two great-nephews have each a + son and a daughter living. + </p> + <p> + The <i>juge de paix</i> and his brother are now among the most respected + citizens of Arcis, and have lived to witness the rehabilitation of their + great ancestor. Neither of the pair inhabit the house in which Danton was + born, and to which he ever returned with joy and satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + A sight of Danton’s house is sufficient to disprove the calumnies of that + noble woman, but inveterate hater, Madame Roland. + </p> + <p> + From her memoirs we might gather that Danton was a poverty-stricken, + pettifogging lawyer of the basest class. That Danton’s family belong to + the well-to-do upper middle ranks, we see from the object lesson before + us. At the time of my visit, this large, roomy, well-built house, with + coach-house, stables and half-a-dozen acres of garden, orchard and wood, + was to let for 700 francs a year. But so low a rent now-a-days is no + indication of its value a hundred years ago. + </p> + <p> + {Illustration: DANTON’S HOME AT ARCIS-SUR-AUBE.} + </p> + <p> + The owner of the house most kindly showed me over every part. + </p> + <p> + It is two-storeyed, plainly but solidly constructed, and evidently + arranged, according to French fashion, for a combined tenancy. Two or + three families could here well be accommodated under the same roof, each + having separate establishments. I found myself in a covered carriageway, + cool dark corridors leading to outhouses and stables, a wide staircase + with handsome oak balustrade to upstair kitchen and bed-chambers, on + either side of the ground floor were spacious salon and dining room, + fronting town and river, water-mills and quays. In the vast kitchen was an + enormous chopping block, suggestive of large family joints. + </p> + <p> + My kind cicerone allowed me to linger in Danton’s bed-chamber. I now + looked out from the window at which the fallen leader was often seen by + his townsfolk during the last days of his stormy career. In his night-cap + the colossal figure might be descried gazing out into the night, as if + peering into futurity, trying to read the future. Did he perhaps from time + to time waver in his decision to abide his doom? We know that again and + again his friends urged him to seek safety in flight. + </p> + <p> + “Does a man carry his country on the sole of his shoe?” he retorted + fiercely, but it may well be that he here envied weaker men. Danton’s + character was thoroughly French. His ambition was as he said to retire to + Arcis-sur-Aube and there plant cabbages. A devoted son, husband and + father, his affections were also centred upon others not of his blood and + name. He tenderly loved his old nurse, and left her a small pension. + Within the last thirty years, thanks to M. Aulard and his collaborators, + the history of the Revolution has been written anew, or rather for the + first time. The gigantic figure of Danton stands forth to-day in its true + light, as the saviour of France from the fate of Poland, and as a founder + of the democratic idea. He succumbed less because he was a rival of + Robespierre than because he was a friend of humanity. + </p> + <p> + “I would rather be guillotined than guillotine,” he repeated, and it was + mainly his effort to stay the Terror that made him its victim. + </p> + <p> + The study adjoining contained that suggestive library of English, Spanish, + Italian, and ancient classics of which his biographers have given us a + catalogue, but which are now, alas! dispersed for ever. + </p> + <p> + The house stands conspicuous, rearing a proud front to the world, if world + could be used appropriately of so quiet, humdrum a little place. A few + hundred yards off we reach the Church, Hôtel de Ville and open square. In + 1886, a monument to Danton was inaugurated here with much ceremony. A + bronze statue represents the great tribune in the fiery attitude of an + orator, pronouncing his immortal phrase:— + </p> + <p> + <i>“De l’audace, encore de l’audace, toujours de l’audace!”</i> + </p> + <p> + Arcis-sur-Aube is a little town of three thousand souls, within an hour’s + railway journey from Troyes. The river Aube (Alba), so called from its + silveriness flows by Danton’s house. In his time and up to the opening of + the railways the place was a port of some importance. Boats and barges + carried goods to Troyes, Bar-sur-Aube and other towns. + </p> + <p> + Of late years Arcis has been partially surrounded with pleasant shady + walks greatly appreciated by the townsfolk. Regretfully I quitted my + circle of acquaintances here, little dreaming under what interesting + circumstances I should next meet Danton’s great-nephew. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. — RHEIMS. + </h2> + <p> + The grandest of all the grand cathedrals in France has been so fully + described elsewhere, that I will not attempt to do justice to the subject + myself. During one of my numerous visits to Rheims, however, it was my + good fortune to enjoy a very rare experience. On the occasion of President + Faure’s funeral, the great <i>bourdon</i> or bell, formerly only tolled + for the death of monarchs, was now heard for the second time during the + Third Republic. Standing under the shadow of that vast minster the sound + seemed to come from east and west, from above and below, dwarfing the hum + of the city to nothingness, as if echoing from the remotest corners of + France. It was no heroic figure now knelled by the deepest-voiced bell in + the country, but in the person of the Havre tanner raised to the dignity + of a ruler, was embodied a magnificent idea, the sovereignty of the people + and the overthrow of privilege. Never as long as I live shall I forget the + boom of that great bell, and long the solemn sound lingered on my ears. + </p> + <p> + A few days later the interior of the vast Cathedral echoed with sound + almost as overwhelming in its force and solemnity. A grand mass was given + in honour of the dead President. + </p> + <p> + In front of the high altar stood a lofty catafalque, the rich purple + drapery blazing with gold. The nave was filled with dazzling uniforms and + embroidered vestments. In especially reserved seats sat the officers of + the Legion of Honour, among these in civilian dress figuring the honoured + citizen of Rheims who has ever retained English nationality, Mr. Jonathan + Holden. + </p> + <p> + What with beating drums, clashing cymbals, blaring trumpets and pealing + organ, the tremendous vault seemed hardly capacious enough for the + deafening combination of sound. As a relief came the funeral march of + Chopin, the more subdued strains seeming almost inaudible after the tumult + of the moment before. Never surely had plebeian requiem so imperial! + </p> + <p> + The rich, artistic and archaeological treasures of Rheims are well known. + I will now describe one or two sights which do not come in the way of the + tourist. + </p> + <p> + One of these is the so-called “Maison de Retraite” or associated home for + people of small means. The handsome building, with its large grounds, + accommodating three hundred tenants, is neither a hotel nor a boarding + establishment, least of all an almshouse. + </p> + <p> + Under municipal patronage and support the “Maison de Retraite” offers + rooms, board, attendance, laundress and even a small plot of garden for + the annual sum of £16 to £24 per inmate, the second sum procuring larger + rooms and more liberal fare. Personal independence is absolutely + unhampered except by the fact that the lodge gate is closed at 10 p.m. As + most of the tenants of the home are elderly folks, such a rule is no + hardship. One great advantage of the system is the protection thus + afforded to single women and old people, and the immunity from household + cares. Meals are taken in common, but otherwise intercourse is voluntary. + The French temperament is so sociable, however, and chat is such a + necessity of existence, that we saw many groups on garden benches, and + also in the recreation and reading rooms. When the number of small <i>rentiers</i> + is considered, i.e., men and women of the middle-class living upon a + minimum income, we can understand the usefulness of this home. I learned + that the establishment is self-supporting, the initiatory expense having + been borne by the town and philanthropists. + </p> + <p> + We strolled about with one of the managing staff finding the inmates very + sociable; one elderly gentleman invited us to sit down in his bit of + garden, very proud, as he might well be, of all the flowers he had + contrived to crowd into so small a space. We were also welcomed into some + of the neat interiors, these varying in size according to the scale of + payment. The class profiting by this associated home was evidently that of + the small <i>bourgeoisie</i>. + </p> + <p> + Children there seemed to be none, one and all of the tenants being elderly + widows, widowers, bachelors or spinsters. There were, however, a few + married couples, who, if they preferred it, could cook their own meals at + home. For single, middle-class women here was a refuge answering to the + conventual boarding house of the upper classes. + </p> + <p> + Unmarried women in France are not nearly so numerous as in England, and I + must say they may well envy their English and American sisters in + spinsterhood. An unmarried French lady belonging to genteel society cannot + cross the street unaccompanied till she has passed her fortieth year, nor + till then may she open the pages of Victor Hugo or read a newspaper. Even + in this “Maison de Retraite” special provision was made for the privacy of + single ladies; whether they liked it or not they were expected to eat in a + separate dining room, and meet for social purposes in a separate salon. As + there is no limit to the emotional period and the age of sentiment, + perhaps these safeguards of propriety are not wholly superfluous. + </p> + <p> + Of course the economy of such an arrangement is very great. Think of a + respectable fairly-educated young woman getting what good old John Bunyan + calls “harbour and good company,” in other words, all the other + necessaries of life, with society into the bargain, for £16 a year! The + attendance is of course somewhat rough and ready. We saw a stalwart, + rough-haired, rather masculine-looking female setting one of the + dinner-tables with a clatter that would drive the fastidious to + distraction. But the good soul had evidently her heart in her work, and I + dare aver that single-handed she got through as much as three English + housemaids with ourselves. Would such a scheme answer in England? I doubt + it. The Anglo-Saxon character is the reverse of sociable, and class + distinctions are so in-rooted in the English nature that it would be very + difficult to get ten English women together who considered themselves + belonging to precisely the same class. + </p> + <p> + Furthermore, are there with us many widows or spinsters of the same class + enjoying even such small independent means as the sums above mentioned? In + France, teachers, tradeswomen, female clerks and others, by dint of rigid + economy, usually insure for themselves a small income before reaching old + age. Fortunately habits of thrift are increasing in England, and our women + workers have a larger field and earn higher wages. I had also the + privilege of seeing the great wool-combing factory of our countryman Mr. + Jonathan Holden, for upwards of forty years a citizen of Rheims. This town + has been for centuries one of the foremost seats of industry in France. + Mr. Holden’s chimneys are kept going night and day, Sundays excepted, with + alternating shifts of workmen. All the hands employed are of French + nationality and—a fact speaking volumes—no strike has ever + disturbed the amicable relations of English employer and French employed. + The great drawback to an inspection of these workshops is the din of the + machinery and the odour of the skins. But there is something that takes + hold of the imagination in the perfection to which machinery has been + carried. As we gaze upon these huge engines, only occasionally touched by + a woman’s hand, we are reminded of man, the pigmy guiding an elephant. We + seem conscious, moreover, of what almost approaches human intelligence, so + much of the work achieved appearing voluntary rather than automatic. The + skins reach Rheims direct from Australia and are here dressed, cleaned and + prepared for working up into cloth. If machinery is brought almost to the + perfection of manual dexterousness, human beings attain the precision of + machinery. + </p> + <p> + I saw a neatly dressed girl at work whose sole occupation it was to tie up + the wool, now white as snow and soft as silk, into small parcels. The wool + already weighed came down by a little trough, and as swiftly and + methodically as wheels set in motion, the girl’s fingers folded the paper + and tied the string. I should not like to guess how many of these parcels + she turned off in half a minute. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. — RHEIMS—(<i>continued</i>). + </h2> + <p> + Rheims possesses a handsome theatre, the acquaintance of which I was + enabled to make under exceptional circumstances. At the risk of appearing + slightly egotistical, I will here describe an incident which has other + than personal interest. My visit to Damon’s country, the particulars of + which were given in a former chapter, had an especial object, viz., the + setting of a novel of my own having the great conventionnel for its hero. + The story was dramatised by two French collaborators, one of whom was at + that time stage manager of the Grand Theatre, Rheims. What, then, was my + delight to see one morning placarded throughout the town the announcement + of the Anglo-French play? A few days before the first representation I had + witnessed a rehearsal, and as I was guided through the dusky labyrinths of + the theatre I could realise the excessive, the appalling, combustibility + of such buildings. It is difficult, moreover, for those who have never + penetrated into such recesses—whose only acquaintance is with the + representation on the stage—to imagine how gloomy and sepulchral + “behind the scenes” may appear. However, by-and-by it was all cheerful + enough, and the rehearsal, I must say, although of a tragedy, abounded in + touches of humour. My friend and myself were accommodated with chairs just + in front of the stage near the prompter, a very friendly personage, who + was evidently interested in the fact of my presence. The actors and + actresses dropped in one by one and we exchanged a cordial handshake. + There was nothing theatrical about the dress or manners of these ladies, + whose ages ranged from extreme youth to middle age. They all looked + pleasant, lady-like, ordinary women, who might have quitted their + housekeeping or any other occupation of a domestic nature. The men, too, + impressed me agreeably as they greeted myself and their colleagues. Very + amusing was the commencement of proceedings. + </p> + <p> + “Come, my children, put yourselves into position,” said the stage manager, + making corrections or suggestions as he went on; now somebody spoke too + loud, and now somebody was too inarticulate, now an arm was held too + forward, and now a leg dragged too much. Excessively diverting, also, the + dummy show. In one scene of the play, a village schoolmaster is holding a + class of little boys and girls. To-day, a row of chairs did duty for the + scholars and were duly harangued, catechised, and even admonished with a + cane. In another scene, a peasant woman appears with her donkey, to whom + she confides a long tirade of troubles, the donkey for the moment being + like the showman’s hero in the famous story, “round the corner.” A third + and still more amusing piece of dumb show occurred later, when an + ex-abbess acting as housekeeper to the village curé, let fall a basket of + potatoes which were supposed to roll about the stage. All went well and + the prompter, to whom I appealed for an opinion, assured me that I need be + under no uneasiness, for the piece would go off like a house on fire. + </p> + <p> + In spite of that favourable prognostic an author’s first night is always a + nervous affair, especially when that author is a foreigner, and her piece + a translation from the original. + </p> + <p> + However, everything went merry as a marriage bell, my kind friends filled + several boxes, and perhaps one of the most interesting incidents of the + evening was the fact that just underneath sat Danton’s great-nephew with + his clerk, who had come from Arcis-sur-Aube expressly for the occasion. + Between the acts I went down and chatted with these two gentlemen, also + with a French friend who had travelled from Dijon—a six hours’ + railway journey—in order to witness the piece. To the best of my + knowledge now for the first time Danton figured on the French stage. + </p> + <p> + It must be confessed that the theatre on this especial night was not a + crowded house. In the first place, three large soirées, which had been + postponed on account of the President’s funeral, coincided with the + representation. In the second place, as a rule, the wealthier and more + fashionable classes do not patronise provincial theatres, especially when + residing within easy reach of Paris. However, the pit and gallery were + packed, and loud was the applause with which the appearance of Danton in a + blue tail coat, top boots and sash, and his vehement utterances were + greeted. + </p> + <p> + It had never crossed my mind that under such circumstances an author would + be called for; when, indeed, at the close of the piece, cries of “Auteur! + auteur!” were heard throughout the theatre, my friends begged me to show + myself. Which, proudly enough, I did, first saluting the sovereign people + in the gallery, then bowing less beamingly to the scantier audience in the + boxes, finally acknowledging the acclamations from the pit. If “Danton à + Arcis” brought its author neither fame nor fortune, it certainly repaid + her in another and most agreeable fashion. Two or three days later, a + second representation of the piece at popular prices was given, and upon + that occasion the house was full to overflowing. + </p> + <p> + The Grand Theatre, Rheims, is a very handsome building, and like most + other provincial houses maintains a company of its own, although from time + to time it is visited by the best Paris troupes. + </p> + <p> + Yet another uncommon recollection of Rheims must here be recorded. In + September of last year, I witnessed such a spectacle as my military + friends assured me had never before been afforded to the marvel-loving; in + other words, the sight of a hundred and sixty thousand men—a host + perhaps more numerous than any ever commanded by Napoleon—performing + evolutions within range of vision. + </p> + <p> + By half-past five in the morning I was off from Paris with my host and + hostess in their motor car for the Northern railway station. The day of + the great review broke dull and grey, and deserted indeed looked the + usually gay and lively Paris streets. We reached the station at five + minutes to six, i.e., five minutes before the starting of our train, and + at once realised the neatness with which the day’s programme had been + arranged, both by the railway companies and the Government. The tens of + thousands of sightseers had been despatched to Rheims by relays of trains + during the night, and the station was now kept clear for the numerous + specials conveying members of the Senate, the Chamber, and the Press. + Here, therefore, was no crowding whatever, only a quiet stream of + deputies, wearing their tricolour badges accompanied by their ladies, each + deputy having the privilege of taking two. + </p> + <p> + Precisely on the stroke of six, our long and well-filled train consisting + of first-class carriages only steamed out of the station, taking the + northern route and only making a short halt at Soissons. No sooner had we + joined the Compiègne line than we realised the tremendous precautions + necessary in the case of visitors so august; double rows of soldiers were + placed at short intervals on either side of the railway and detachments of + mounted troops stationed at a distance guarded the route. The arrangements + for our own comfort were perfect. Our train set us down, not at Rheims, + but at Bétheny itself the scene of the review, a temporary station having + been there erected. We were, therefore within a hundred yards or so of our + tribune, or raised stage, and of the luncheon tents, roads having been + laid down to each by the Génie or engineering body. Numbered indications + conspicuously placed quite prevented any confusion whatever, and, indeed, + it was literally impossible for anyone to miss his way. The only + eventuality that could have spoiled everything, wet weather, fortunately + held off until the show was over. The review itself was a magnificent + spectacle, surely not without irony when we consider that this great + military display, one of the greatest on record, was got up in honour of + the first Sovereign in the world who had dared to propose a general + disarmament! Another line of thought was awakened by the fact of our + isolation. The specially invited guests of the French Government upon this + occasion numbered three thousand persons, and it seemed that for the Czar, + his train, and these, the great show was got up. The thousands of + outsiders, sightseers, and excursionists, brought to Rheims by cheap + trains from all parts of France, were nowhere; in other words, invisible. + </p> + <p> + Whether or no such spectators got anything like a view of the evolutions I + do not know. I should be inclined to think that from the distance at which + they were kept the moving masses were mere blurs and nothing more. From + our own tribune, adjoining that of the Presidential party, we commanded a + view of the entire forces covering the vast plain, surrounded by rising + ground. + </p> + <p> + Amazing it was to see the dark immovable lines slowly break up, and as if + set in motion by machinery, deploy according to orders. The vast plain + before us was a veritable sea of men, an army, one would think, sufficient + for the military needs of all Europe. + </p> + <p> + One striking feature of these superb regiments, cavalry as well as + infantry, was the excellence of the bands. Never before had I realised the + inspiriting thing that martial music might be. Another interesting point + was that afforded by the cyclists, several regiments having these newly + formed companies. Whenever a flag was borne past, whether by foot or + mounted soldier, the cheering was tremendous, but it was reserved for a + regiment of Lorrainers to receive a veritable ovation. Still so fondly + yearns the heart of France after her lost and mutilated provinces! On the + whole, and speaking as a naïve amateur, I should say that no country in + the world could show a grander military spectacle. Enthusiasm reigned + amongst all beholders, but there was no display of political bias or any + discordant note. Cries of “Vive la France!” were as frequent as those of + “Vive l’armée!” + </p> + <p> + Not a policeman was to be seen anywhere, the deputies keeping order for + themselves. And not always without an effort! People would rise from their + seats, even stand on benches, despite the thundered out “Remain seated!” + on all sides. On the whole, and with this exception, nothing could surpass + the general good humour. And when the splendid cortege filed by at the + close, delight and satisfaction beamed on every face. M. Loubet was so + dignified, folks said, Madame Loubet was so well dressed, the deportment + of M. Waldeck Rousseau was perfect, M. Deschanel handsomer than ever, and + so on, every member of the Czar’s, or rather the President’s, entourage + winning approval. General André and M. Delcassé were very warmly received. + The slim, pale, fastidious looking young man in flat, white cap, green + tunic, and high boots, seated beside the portly, genial figure wearing the + broad Presidential ribbon, set me thinking. How at the bottom of his heart + does the Autocrat of All The Russias view these representatives of the + great French Republic! How does he really feel towards France, the first + nation of the western world to set the example of officially recognised + self-government, the initiator of a system as opposed to Russian despotism + as is white to black? Whatever may be the secret of this strange + Franco-Russian alliance, it is apparently in the interest of peace, and, + as such, should be warmly welcomed by all advocates of progress. + </p> + <p> + The luncheon was superabundant, consisting of wines, cold meat, and bread + in plenty. The task of finding refreshment for three thousand people had + been satisfactorily solved. The only thing wanting was water. It seems + that upon such an occasion no one was expected to drink anything short of + Bordeaux, Burgundy, or pale ale. + </p> + <p> + All the special trains were crowded for the return journey, made by way of + Meaux, but everyone made way for everyone, and we reached Paris at eight + o’clock, almost as fresh and quite as good-humoured as we had quitted it + at dawn. If this great review was interesting from one point more than + another, it was from the manner in which it displayed the wonderful + organising faculty of the French mind. The most trifling details no more + than the largest combinations can disconcert this pre-eminently national + aptitude. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. — SOULAINES AND BAR-SUR-AUBE. + </h2> + <p> + The first of these places mentioned is a Champenois village twelve miles + from a railway station. From the windows of my friends’ château I look + upon a magnificent deer park, where during the oft-time torrid heat of + summer delicious shade is to be found. + </p> + <p> + Far away vast forests bound the horizon, to the north a hot open road + leading to Brienne-le-Château, where Napoleon studied as a military cadet; + eastward, lies varied scenery between Soulaines and Bar-sur-Aube, there + woodland ending and the vine country beginning. + </p> + <p> + On one especial visit during September, not even these acres of + closely-serried forest could induce more than a suggestion of shadow and + coolness. Although screened from view the sun was there. Throughout a vast + region—half a province of woodland—folks breathed the hot air + of the Soudan. The tropic temperature admitted of no exercise during the + day, but after four o’clock tea we broke up into parties—drove, + rode, strolled, called upon homelier neighbours, visited quaint old + churches hidden in the trees or forest nooks, the solitude only broken by + pattering of deer and rabbits, or nut-cracking squirrel aloft. Here and + there we would come upon huts of charcoal-burner and wood-cutter, + gamekeepers and foresters, too, had their scattered lodges; such signs of + human habitation being few and far between. + </p> + <p> + We are here in the remnant of the great Celtic forest of Der. The + straggling village of Soulaines is one long street, a little stream + running behind the picturesque, timbered houses, many of these have outer + wooden staircases leading to grange or storehouse. Church and presbytery, + convent and Mairie were conspicuous. + </p> + <p> + In the opposite direction, another church rose above the horizon, the + centre of what in France is called not a village but a hamlet. Bare as a + barn seen from far and near showed this little church, and we often walked + thither for the sake of its picturesque surroundings. The portal of the + quaint old building is a mass of ancient sculpture, close round it being + grouped a few mud-built, timbered, one-storeyed dwellings all of a + pattern. + </p> + <p> + Even in France are to be found day labourers, only the very poorest, + however, being without a cottage, plot of ground, a cow and of poultry + their own. Many of their interiors are far neater and cleaner than those + of the farm-houses, their occupants not being so tied to the soil from + morning to night, not, in fact, incited to Herculean labours by the spur + of larger possession. We visited one of the poorest villages hereabouts, + of not quite a hundred souls, but of course, provided with church, school + and Mairie. Many a group of potato diggers we saw in the exquisite + twilight, suggestive of Millet, many a landscape recalling other masters. + This handful of woodlanders—for the village is surrounded by forests—is + perhaps as poor as any rural population to be found throughout France. Yet + here surprises await us. Some of the better off hire a little land, keep + cows, rear poultry, most likely in time to become owners of a plot. They + are paid for harvest work in kind, several we talked to having earned + enough corn for the winter’s consumption—as they put it—our + winter’s bread. They are a fine, sunburnt, well-formed race and seem + cheerful enough. In one of the poorest houses, a huge pipkin on the fire + emitted savoury steam, and rows of small cheeses garnished the shelves. + Good oak bedsteads, linen presses and old-fashioned clocks were general. + Every mantel-piece had its framed photograph and ornamental crockery. New + milk was always freely offered us. + </p> + <p> + Within the precincts of this hamlet we find ourselves in a bluish-green + land of mingled wood and water; above the reedy marsh, haunt of wild fowl, + willows grew thick; here and there the water flowed freely, its surface + broken by the plash of carp and trout. At this season all hands hereabouts + were busy with threshing out the newly garnered corn and getting in + potatoes. The crops are very varied, wheat, barley, lucerne, beetroot, + buckwheat, colza, potatoes; we see a little of everything. Artificial + manures are not much used, nor agricultural machinery to a great extent, + except by large farmers, but the land is clean and in a high state of + cultivation. Peasant property is the rule; labouring for hire, the + condition of non-possession, very rare. And whether the times are good or + evil, land dirt cheap or dear, the year’s savings go to the purchase of a + field or two and, as a necessary consequence, to the consolidation of the + Republic and the maintenance of Parliamentary institutions. + </p> + <p> + I will now say something of our neighbours. One of these was the parish + priest, who had the care of between six and seven hundred souls. The fact + may be new to some readers that a village curé, even in these days, + receives on an average little more than Goldsmith’s country parson, + “counted rich on forty pounds a year.” This curé’s stipend, including + perquisites amounted to just sixty pounds yearly, in addition to which he + had a good house, large garden and paddock. But compare such a position + with that of one of our own rectors and vicars! + </p> + <p> + The Protestant clergy in France are better paid than those belonging to + the orthodox faith. Being heads of families, they are supposed, and + justly, to need more. Let it not be imagined, however, that the priest + receives less under the Republic than under the Empire. But the cost of + living has increased. + </p> + <p> + Of course there are black sheep in the Romish fold as elsewhere; perhaps + even the simplicity, learning and devotion to duty of the individual I + here write of, are rare. Yet one cannot help feeling how much more money + the Government would have at command with which to remunerate good workers + in pacific fields if disarmament were practicable. This excellent priest, + like other men of education and taste, would have relished a little travel + as much as do our own vicars and curates their annual outing to Norway or + Switzerland. What remains for recreation and charity after defraying + household expenses and cost of a housekeeper out of sixty pounds a year? + </p> + <p> + Next, let me say a word about the <i>juge de paix</i> in France, as I + presume most readers are aware, a modest functionary, yet better paid than + that of a priest. The average stipend of a justice of the peace is about a + hundred pounds a year, with lodging, but although his duties often take + him far afield he is not provided with a vehicle, and must either cycle or + defray the cost of carriage hire. I know many of these rural magistrates, + and have ever found them men of education and intelligence. I, now, for + the first time, found one well read in English literature, not only able + to discuss Shakespeare and Walter Scott, but the latest English novel + appearing in translation as a feuilleton. It is well that these small + officials should have such resources. Tied down as they are to remote + country spots, their existence is often monotonous enough, especially + during the winter months. + </p> + <p> + It seems to be a canon of French faith that you cannot have too much of a + good thing, anyhow in the matter of wedding festivities. Parisian society + is beginning to adopt English saving of time and money, fashionable + marriages there now being followed by a brief lunch and reception. + Country-folks stick to tradition, preferring to make the most of an event + which as a rule happens only once during a lifetime. Gratifying as was the + experience to an English guest, especially that guest being a devoted + admirer of France, I must honestly confess that my share in such a + celebration constituted probably the hardest day’s work I ever performed. + Here I will explain that the bride’s father was head forester of my host + and hostess, the great folks of the place, and adored by their humbler + neighbours. Château and cottage were thus closely, nay affectionately, + interested in the important event I am about to describe, and this aspect + of it is fully as noteworthy as the truly Gallic character of the long + drawn out fête itself. + </p> + <p> + By nine a.m. horses and carriages of the château, adorned with wedding + favours, were flying madly about in all directions conveying the wedding + party to and from the Mairie for the civil ceremony. An hour later we were + ourselves off to the village church, the house party including three + English guests. The enormously long religious ceremony over, a procession + was formed headed by musicians, bride and bridegroom leading the way, + fifty and odd couples following and the round of the village was made. At + the door of the festive house we formed a circle, the newly-wedded pair + embracing everyone and receiving congratulations; this is a somewhat + lachrymose ceremony. The marriage was in every way satisfactory, but the + nice-looking young bride, a general favourite, was quitting for ever her + childhood’s home. After some little delay we all took our places in two + banqueting rooms, the tables being arranged horse-shoe wise. Facing bride + and bridegroom sat my host, the second room being presided over by the + bride’s father, of whom I shall have something to say later. Here I give + the bill of fare, merely adding that the festive board was neatly, even + elegantly, spread, and that every dish was excellent:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Hors d’oeuvre Salade de saison + Radis, beurre frais, Langue fumée Fruits + Bouchées à la Reine Brioche. Nougat + Daim, sauce chassuer Desserts varies + Galantine truffée Vins + Salmis de canards Pineau, Bordeaux, Champagne + Choux-fleurs Café, Liqueurs. + Dinde truffée. +</pre> + <p> + Looking down the lines of well-dressed people, all with the exception of + ourselves belonging to the same rank as the bride, I could but be struck + with the good looks, gentle bearing, and general appearance of everyone. + As to the head forester, he was one of Nature’s gentlemen, and might + easily have passed for a general or senator. At the table sat several + young girls of the village, each having a cavalier, all these dressed very + neatly and comporting themselves like well-bred young ladies without + presumption or awkwardness. During the inevitable pauses between dish and + dish, one after another of these pretty girls stood up and gratified the + company with a song, the performance costing perhaps an effort, but being + got through simply and naturally. In the midst of the banquet, which + lasted over three hours, two professionals came to sing and recite. From + the breakfast table, after toasts,—the afternoon being now well + advanced—we again formed a procession to the Mairie, in front of + which <i>al fresco</i> dancing commenced. Add that this out-of-door ball + lasted till a second dinner, the dinner being followed by a second ball + lasting far into the small hours. Nor did the celebration end here. The + following day was equally devoted to visits, feasts, toasts, and dancing. + What a national heritage is this capacity for fellowship, gaiety, and + harmless mirth! + </p> + <p> + Bar-sur-Aube lies twelve miles off and a beautiful drive it is thither + from Soulaines. We gradually leave forest, pasture and arable land, + finding ourselves amid vineyards. At the little village of + Ville-sur-Terre, we one day halted at a farm-house for a chat, the + housewife most kindly presenting me with two highly decorative plates. + </p> + <p> + As we approach Bar-sur-Aube we come upon a wide and beautiful prospect, + wooded hills dominating the plain. + </p> + <p> + This little town is very prettily situated, and like every other in France + possesses some old churches. Perhaps its most famous child is Bombonnel, + the great panther-slayer, born close by, who died at Dijon and whose + souvenirs bequeathed to me as a legacy I have given elsewhere. The son of + a working glazier, he made a little fortune as hawker of stockings in the + streets of New Orleans, returned to France, cleared the Algerian Tell of + panthers, for a time enjoyed ease with dignity in Burgundy; on the + outbreak of the Franco-German War in 1870, as leader of a thousand <i>francs-tireurs</i>, + gave the Germans more trouble than any commander of an army corps, twice + had a price of £1,000 set upon his head, was glorified by Victor Hugo, + received the decoration of the Legion of Honour, and as a reward for his + patriotic services several hundred acres of land in Algeria. A gigantic + statue of Sant Hubert, the patron of hunters, now commemorates the great + little man, for he was short of statue, in the cemetery of Dijon. + </p> + <p> + Bar-sur-Aube is connected with another notoriety, the infamous Madame de + la Motte, the arch-adventuress, who, a descendant herself of Valois kings, + proved the undoing of Marie Antoinette. As was truly said by a great + contemporary:—“The affair of the Diamond Necklace,” wrote Mirabeau, + “has been the forerunner of the Revolution.” + </p> + <p> + This Jeanne de Valois, rescued from the gutter by a benovolent lady of + title and a charitable priest, presents a psychological study rare even in + the annals of crime. Never, perhaps, were daring, unscrupulousness, and + the faculty of combination linked with so complete a disregard to + consequences. The moving spring of her actions, often so complicated and + foolhardy, was love of money and display. It seemed as if in her person, + was accumulated the lavishness of French Royal mistresses from Diane de + Poitiers down to Madame Dubarry. There was a good deal of the Becky Sharp + about her too, although there is nothing in her history to show that, like + Thackeray’s heroine, “she had no objection to pay people if she had the + money.” If, indeed, anything in the shape of ethics guided the most + astoundingly ingenious swindler we know of, it was some such principle as + this: she ought to have been at Versailles, there being received as a + recognised Princess of the Royal House; since, through no fault whatever + of her own, she was not, she had a perfect right to avenge herself upon + royalty and society in general. + </p> + <p> + How she wormed herself into the confidence of the Cardinal de Rohan, a man + of the world and of education, would seem wholly unaccountable but for one + fact. The Prince Primate had faith in Cagliostro and his nostrums, and + when an individual has recourse to astrologers and fortune-tellers, we are + quite in a position to gauge his mental condition. Like Mdlle. Couesdon of + contemporary fame, Cagliostro held intercourse with the angel Gabriel, but + his occult powers and privileges far exceeded those of the Parisian + lady-seer. He was actually in the habit of dining with Henri IV., and two + days before the Cardinal’s arrest made his client believe that he had just + accepted such an invitation! + </p> + <p> + It had been Rohan’s ambition to obtain the favour of the Queen and a + foremost position at court, hence the readiness with which he fell into + the trap. For “the Valois orphan,” now Comtesse de la Motte, not only + possessed great personal attractions, but an extraordinary gift of + persuasiveness. Without much apparent trouble she made the Cardinal + believe that she was in the Queen’s favour, and indeed in her confidence. + Having got so far the rest was easy. + </p> + <p> + How the acquisition of the already celebrated Diamond Necklace was first + thought of, how, by the aid of willing tools, she matured and carried out + her deep-laid and diabolical scheme, reads like an adventure from the + “Arabian Nights.” The personification of the Queen by a little dressmaker + who happened to resemble her, the forgery of the Royal signature, the + final attainment of the diamonds, all seemed so easy to this consummate + trickster that it is small wonder she became intoxicated with success and + blind to consequences. No sooner was the necklace in her possession than, + of course, as fast as possible it was turned, not into money, but into + money’s worth. Houses and lands, equipages and furniture, costly apparel, + and delicacies for the table were purchased, not with louis d’or, but with + diamonds. + </p> + <p> + We read of her triumphant entry into the little town of Bar-sur-Aube, + cradle of the Saint Rémy-Valois family, in a berline with white trappings + and the Valois armorials, before and behind the carriage, which was drawn + by “four English horses with short tails,” rode lacqueys, whilst on the + footboard ready to open the door stood a negro, “covered, from head to + foot with silver.” Still more dazzling was the dress of Madame la + Comtesse, richest brocade trimmed with rubies and emeralds. As to the + Count, not content with having rings on every finger he wore four gold + watch chains! Besides holding open house when at home, the pair had a + table always spread with dainties for those who chose to partake in their + hosts’ absence. Among the toys paid for in diamonds was an automatic bird + that warbled and flapped its wings. This was intended for the amusement of + visitors. + </p> + <p> + The carnival proved of short duration. It was on the 1st of February, + 1783, that the diamond necklace was handed over to Madame de la Motte, + Rohan receiving in return the forged signature of “Marie-Antoinette de + France.” On August of the same year, in the midst of a banquet given at + Bar-sur-Aube, a visitor arrived with startling news. “The Prince Cardinal + de Rohan, Grand Almoner of France, was on the Festival of Assumption, + arrested in pontifical robes, charged with having purchased a diamond + necklace in the name of the Queen.” + </p> + <p> + The charm of these little French towns and rustic spots lies in their + remoteness, the feeling they give us of being so entirely aloof from + familiar surroundings. In many a small Breton or Norman town we hear + little else but English speech, and in the one general shop of tiny + villages see <i>The New York Herald</i> on sale. But from the time of + leaving Nemours to that of reaching the farthest point mentioned in these + sketches we encounter no English or American tourists. This essentially + foreign atmosphere is not less agreeable than conducive to instruction. We + are thus thrown into direct contact with the country people and are + enabled to realise French modes of life and thought. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. — ST. JEAN DE LOSNE. + </h2> + <p> + Within the last twenty-five years so many new lines of railway have been + opened in France that there is no longer any inducement—I am + inclined to say excuse—for keeping to the main road. Yet, strangely + enough, English tourists mostly ignore such opportunities. For one + fellow-countryman we meet on the route described here, hundreds are + encountered on the time-honoured roads running straight from Paris to + Switzerland. Quit Dijon by any other way and the English-speaking world is + lost sight of, perhaps more completely than anywhere else on the civilised + globe. Again and again it has happened to myself to be regarded in rural + France as a kind of curiosity, the first subject of Queen Victoria ever + met with; again and again I have spent days, nay weeks, on French soil, + the sole reminder of my native land being the daily paper posted in + London. It is now many years since I first visited St. Jean de Losne, in + company of a French acquaintance, a notary, both of us being bound to a + country-house on the Saône. At that time the railway did not connect it + with Dijon, and in brilliant September weather we jogged along by + diligence, a pleasant five hours’ journey enough. My companion, a native + of the Côte d’Or, seemed to know everyone we passed on the way, whenever + we stopped to change horses getting out for a gossip with this friend and + that he had taken the precaution to provide himself with a huge loaf of + bread, from which he hacked off morsels for us both from time to time. As + we had started at seven o’clock in the morning, and got no déjeûner till + past noon, the doles were acceptable. The fellow-traveller of that first + journey—alas! With how many friends of the wine country!—has + long since gone to his rest. The second time I set forth alone, taking my + seat in the slow—the very slow—train running alongside the + Canal de Bourgogne. On the central platforms of the Dijon railway station, + crowds of English and American tourists were hurrying to their trains, + bound respectively for Paris and Geneva. No sooner was I fairly off, my + fellow travellers being two or three country-folks, than the + conventionalities of travel had vanished. Surroundings as well as scenery + became entirely French. + </p> + <p> + The Burgundian character is very affable, and although people may wonder + what can be your errand in remote regions, they never show their curiosity + after disagreeable fashion. They are delighted to discover that interest + in France—artistic, economic, or industrial—has led you + thither, and will afford any assistance or information in their power. + They seem to regard the wayfaring Britisher as whimsical, that is all. + </p> + <p> + A train that crawls has this advantage, we can see everything by the way, + villages, crops, and methods of cultivation. The landscape soon changes. + The familiar characteristics of the wine country disappear. Instead of + vine-clad hills, nurseries of young plants grafted on American stocks, and + vineyard after vineyard in rich maturity, we now see hop gardens, colza + fields, and wide pastures. Here and there we obtain a glimpse of some + walled-in farmhouse, recalling the granges of our own Isle of Wight. + </p> + <p> + Alongside the railway runs the canal, that important waterway connecting + the Seine with the Saône; but the Saône itself, Mr. Hamerton’s favourite + river, is not seen till we reach our destination. + </p> + <p> + The little town of St. Jean de Losne, although unknown to English readers, + is one of the most historic of France. No other, indeed, boasts of more + honourable renown. As Jeanne d’Arc had done just two centuries before, St. + Jean de Losne saved the country in 1636. When the Imperial forces under + Galas attempted the occupation of Burgundy, the dauntless townsfolk long + held the enemy at bay and compelled final retreat. After generations + profited by this heroism. Until the great year of 1789, the town, by royal + edict, enjoyed complete immunity from taxation. On the outbreak of the + Revolution, with true patriotic spirit, the citizens surrendered those + privileges, of their own free will sharing the public burdens. + </p> + <p> + The first sight that meets the eye on entering St. Jean de Losne is the + monument erected in commemoration of the siege. “Better late than never,” + is a proverb applicable to public as well as private affairs of + conscience. + </p> + <p> + A little farther, and we reach the church of St. Jean. It contains a + magnificent pulpit, carved from a single block of rich red marble, the + niches ornamented with charming statuettes of the apostles. Close by is + the Hôtel de Ville, in which are some interesting historic relics. As I + passed through the courtyard, I saw an odd sight. One might have fancied + that a second Imperial army threatened a siege, and that the townsfolk + were laying in stores. The pavement was piled with bread and meat, whilst + butchers and bakers were busily engaged in dividing these into portions, + authorities, municipal, military and police, looking on. + </p> + <p> + I learned that these rations were for the regiments quartered in the town + during the autumn manoeuvres. Every day such distributions take place; in + country places the troops have recourse to the peasants, very often being + treated as guests. A young friend, serving his three years, told me that + nowhere had he found country folk more hospitable than in the Côte d’Or. + No sooner did the soldiers make their appearance in a village, than forth + came the inhabitants to welcome them, officers being carried off to + châteaux, men by twos and threes to the home of curé or small owner. “Not + a peasant,” he said, “but would bring up a bottle of good wine from his + cellar, and often after dinner we would get up a dance out of doors. On + the saddle sometimes from two in the morning till twelve at noon, the kind + reception and the jollity of the evening made up for the hardship and + fatigue. We have just had several days of bad weather, and had to sleep on + straw in barns and outhouses, wherever indeed shelter was to be had. Not + one of us ever lost heart or temper; we remained gay as larks all the + time.” + </p> + <p> + An hour’s railway journey from St. Jean de Losne takes the traveller to + Lons-le-Saulnier, beautifully situated at the foot of the Jura range on + the threshold of wild and romantic scenery. + </p> + <p> + A decade had not robbed this little town of its old-world look familiar to + me, but meantime a new Lons-le-Saulnier had sprung up. Since my first + visit a handsome bathing establishment has been built, with casino, + concert-room, and all the other essentials of an inland watering-place. + The waters are especially recommended for skin affections, gout, and + rheumatism. Formerly the mineral springs of Lons, as the townsfolk lazily + call the place, were chiefly frequented by residents and near neighbours. + Improved accommodation, increased accessibility, cheapened travel and + additional attractions, have changed matters. The season opening in May, + and lasting till the end of October, is now patronised by hundreds of + visitors from all parts of eastern France. These health resorts are much + more sociable than our own. Folks drop alike social, political, and + religious differences for the time being, and cultivate the art of being + agreeable as only French people can. Excursions, picnics, and pleasure + parties are arranged; in the evening the young folks dance whilst their + elders play a rubber of whist, chat, look on, or make marriages. Many a + wedding is arranged during the <i>Saison des Bains</i>, nor can such + unions be called <i>mariages de convenance</i>, as in holiday-time + intercourse is comparatively unrestricted. Grown-up or growing-up sons and + daughters then meet as those on English or American soil. + </p> + <p> + Lons-le-Saulnier possesses little of interest except its Museum, rich in + modern sculpture, and its quaint arcades, recalling the period of Spanish + rule in Franche Comté. The excursions lying within easy reach are numerous + and delightful. Foremost of these is a visit to the marvellous rock-shut + valley of Baume-les-Messieurs, so called to distinguish it from + Baume-les-Dames near Besançon. The descent is made on foot, and at first + sight appears not only perilous but impracticable, the zigzag path being + cut in almost perpendicular shelves of rock. This mountain staircase, or + the “Échelle des Baumes,” is not to be recommended to those afflicted with + giddiness. Little sunshine reaches the heart of the gorge, yet below the + turf is brilliant, a veritable islet of green threaded by a tiny river. + The natural walls shutting us in have a majestic aspect, but playful and + musical is the Seille as it ripples at our feet. Travellers of an + adventuresome turn can explore the stalactite caverns and other marvels + around; not the least of these is a tiny lake, the depth of which has + never been sounded. For half-a-mile the valley winds towards the + straggling village of Baume, and there the marvels abruptly end. + </p> + <p> + Nothing finer in the way of scenery is to be found throughout eastern + France. In the ancient Abbey Church are two masterpieces, a retable in + carved wood and a tomb ornamented with exquisite statuettes. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. — NANCY. + </h2> + <p> + It is a pleasant six hours’ journey from Dijon via Chalindrey to Nancy. We + pass the little village of Gemeaux, in which amongst French friends I have + spent so many happy days. + </p> + <p> + From the railway we catch sight of the monticule crowned by an obelisk; + surmounting the vine-clad slopes, we also obtain a glimpse of its “Ormes + de Sully,” or group of magnificent elms, one of many in France supposed to + have been planted by the great Sully. Since my first acquaintance with + this neighbourhood, more than twenty years ago, the aspect of the country + hereabouts has in no small degree changed. Hop gardens in many spots have + replaced vineyards, owing to the devastation of the phylloxera. It was in + the last years of the third Empire that the inhabitants of Roquemaure on + the Rhône found their vines mysteriously withering. + </p> + <p> + A little later the left bank was attacked, and about the same time the + famous brandy producing region of Cognac in the Charente showed similar + symptoms. The cause of the mischief, the terrible Phylloxera devastatrix, + was brought to light in 1868. This tiny insect is hardly visible to the + naked eye, yet so formed by Nature as to be a wholesale engine of + destruction, its phenomenal productiveness being no less fatal than its + equally phenomenal powers of locomotion. One of these tiny parasites alone + propagates at the rate of millions of eggs in a season, a thousand alone + sufficing to destroy two acres and a half of vineyard. As formidable as + this terrible fertility is the speed of the insect’s wings or rather sails + according extraordinary ease of movement. A gust of wind, a mere breath of + air, and like a grain of dust or a tuft of thistledown, this germ of + destruction is borne whither chance directs, to the certain ruin of any + vineyard on which it lights. The havoc spread with terrible rapidity. From + every vine-growing region of France arose cries of consternation. Within + the space of a few years hundreds of thousands of acres were hopelessly + blighted. In 1878 the invader was first noticed at Meursault in Burgundy; + a few days later it appeared in the Botanical Gardens of Dijon. The cost + of replanting vineyards with American stocks is so heavy, viz.: twenty + pounds per hectare, that even many rich vintagers have preferred to + cultivate other crops. Some owners have sold their lands outright. + </p> + <p> + On quitting Is-sur-Tille we enter the so-called Plat de Langres, or richly + cultivated plains stretching between that town and Toul, in the Department + of the Meurthe and Moselle. + </p> + <p> + With the almost sudden change of landscape—woods, winding rivers, + and hayfields in which peasants are getting in their autumn crop, + literally mauve-tinted from the profusion of autumn crocuses—we + encounter sharp contrasts, the events of 1870-1 changing the French + frontier, necessitating the transformation we now behold—once quiet, + old-world towns now wearing the aspect of a vast camp, everywhere to be + seen military defences on a wholly inconceivable scale. It is comforting + to hear from the lips of those who should know, that at the present time + war is impossible, the engines of warfare being so tremendous that the + result of a conflict would be simply annihilation on both sides. After ten + years’ absence, and in spite of radical changes, the elegant, exquisitely + kept town of Nancy appears little altered to me. The ancient capital of + Lorraine is now one of the largest garrisons on the eastern frontier, but + the military aspect is not too obtrusive. Except for the perpetual roll of + the heavy artillery waggons and perpetual sight of the red pantalon, we + are apt to forget the present position of Nancy from a strategic point of + view. + </p> + <p> + Other changes are pleasanter to dwell on. The Facultés, or schools of + medicine, science, and law, removed hither from Strasburg after the + annexation, have immensely increased the intellectual status of Nancy, + whilst from the commercial and industrial side the advance has been no + less. Its population has doubled since the events of 1870-1, and is + constantly increasing. Why so few English travellers visit this dainty and + attractive little capital is not easy to explain. More interesting even + than the artistic and historic collections of Nancy is the celebrated + School of Forestry. Formerly a few young Englishmen were out-students of + this school, but since the study had been made accessible at home the + foreign element at the time of my visit, consisted of a few Roumanians, + sent by their Government. The École Forestière, courteously shown to + visitors, was founded sixty years ago and is conducted on almost a + military system. Only twenty-four students are received annually, and + these must have passed severe examinations either at the École Agronomique + of Paris, or at the École Polytechnique. The staff consists of a director + and six professors, all paid by the State. Two or three years form the + curriculum and successful students are sure of obtaining good Government + appointments. Forestry being a most important service, every branch of + natural science connected with the preservation of forests, and + afforesting is taught, the school collections forming a most interesting + and wholly unique museum. Here we see, exquisitely arranged as books on + library shelves, specimens of wood of all countries, whilst elsewhere + sections from the tiniest to the gigantic stems of America. Very + instructive, too, are the models of those regions in France already + afforested, and of those undergoing the process; we also see the system by + means of which the soil is so consolidated as to render plantation + possible, namely, the arresting of mountain torrents by dams and barrages. + In the Dauphiné, and French Alps generally, many denuded tracks are in + course of transformation, the expense being partly borne by the State and + partly by the communes. It is impossible to over-estimate the importance + of such works, alike from a climatic, economic, and hygienic point of + view. The extensive eucalyptus plantations in Algeria, teach us the value + of afforesting, vast tracks having been thereby rendered healthful and + cultivable. + </p> + <p> + A strikingly beautiful city, sad of aspect withal, is this ancient capital + of Lorraine, ever wearing half mourning, as it seems, for the loss of its + sister Alsace. + </p> + <p> + Unforgettable is the glimpse of the Place Stanislas, with its bronze + gates, fountains, and statue, worthy of a great capital; of the beautiful + figure of Duke Antonio of Lorraine on horseback, under an archway of + flamboyant Gothic; of the Ducal Palace and its airy colonnade; lastly, of + the picturesque old city gate, the Porte de la Crafie, one of the most + striking monuments of the kind in France. + </p> + <p> + All these things may be glanced at in an hour, but in order to enjoy Nancy + thoroughly, a day or two should be devoted to it, and creature comforts + are to be had in the hotels. + </p> + <p> + In the Ducal Palace are shown the rich tapestries found in the tent of + Charles le Téméraire after his defeat before Nancy, and other relics of + that Haroun-al-Raschid of his epoch, who bivouacked off gold and silver + plate, and wore on the battle-field diamonds worth half a million. The + cenotaphs of the Dukes of Lorraine are in a little church outside the town—the + <i>chapelle ronde</i>, as the splendid little mausoleum is designated, its + imposing monuments of black marble and richly-decorated octagonal dome, + making up a solemn and beautiful whole. Graceful and beautiful also are + the monuments in the church itself, and those of another church, des + Cordeliers, close to the Ducal Palace. + </p> + <p> + Nancy is especially rich in monumental sculpture, but it is in the + cathedral that we are enchanted by the marble statues of the four doctors + of the church—St. Augustine, St. Grégoire, St. Léon, and St. Jerome. + These are the work of Nicholas Drouin, a native of the town, and formerly + ornamented a tomb in the church of the Cordeliers just mentioned. The + physiognomy, expression, and pose of St. Augustine are well worthy of a + sculptor’s closest study, but it is rather as a whole than in detail that + this exquisite statue delights the ordinary observer. + </p> + <p> + All four sculptures are noble works of art; the beautiful, dignified + figure of St. Augustine somehow takes strongest hold of the imagination. + We would fain return to it again and again, as indeed we would fain return + to all else we have seen in the fascinating city of Nancy. + </p> + <p> + From Nancy, by way of Epinal, we may easily reach the heart of the Vosges. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. — IN GERMANISED LORRAINE. + </h2> + <p> + At the railway station of Nancy, I was met by a French family party, my + hosts to be in a château on the other side of the French frontier. + </p> + <p> + We had jogged on pleasantly enough for about half an hour, when the + gentlemen of the party, with (to me) perplexing smiles, briskly folded + their newspapers and consigned them, not to their pockets or rugs, but to + their ladies, by whom the journals were secreted in underskirts. + </p> + <p> + “We are approaching the frontier,” said Madame to me. + </p> + <p> + I afterwards learned that only one or two French newspapers are allowed to + circulate in the annexed provinces, the <i>Temps</i> and others, the names + of which I forget; for the first and second offence of smuggling + prohibited newspapers, the offender is subjected to a reprimand, the third + offence is punished by a fine, the fourth involves imprisonment. Now, as + all of us know who have lived in France, the <i>Figaro</i> is a veritable + necessity to the better-off classes in France, the <i>Times</i> to John + Bull not more so. Similarly, to the peasant and the artisan, the <i>Petit + Journal</i> takes the place of the half-penny newspaper in England. This + deprivation is cruelly felt, and is part of the system introduced by + William II. + </p> + <p> + Custom-house dues are at all times vexatious, but on the French-Prussian + frontier they are so arranged as to provoke patriotic feeling. It may seem + a foolish fancy for French folks, German subjects of the Kaiser, to prefer + French soap and stationery, yet what more natural than the purchase of + such things when within easy reach? Thus, on alighting at the frontier, + not only were trunks and baskets turned out, we were all eyed from head to + foot suspiciously. My hosts’ newspapers were not unearthed, certainly; + perhaps their rank and position counted for something. But one country + girl had to pay duty on a shilling box of writing paper, another was + mulcted to half the value of a bottle of scent, and so on. There was + something really pathetic in the forced display of these trifles, the + purchasers being working people and peasants. All French goods and + productions are exorbitantly taxed. Thus a lady must pay three or four + shillings duty on a bonnet perhaps costing twenty in France. On a cask of + wine, the duty often exceeds the price of its contents, and, according to + an inexorable law of human nature, the more inaccessible are these + patriotic luxuries, so the more persistently will they be coveted and + indulged in. + </p> + <p> + Custom House officials on the Prussian side have no easy time of it, + ladies especially giving them no little trouble. The duty on a new dress + sent or brought from France across the frontier is ten francs; and we were + told an amusing story of a French lady, who thought to neatly circumvent + the douane. She was going from Nancy to Strasburg to a wedding, and in the + ladies’ waiting-room on the French side changed her dress, putting on the + new, a rich costume bought for the ceremony. The officials got wind of the + matter. The dress was seized and finally redeemed after damages of a + thousand francs! + </p> + <p> + Persons in indifferent circumstances, however patriotic they may be, can + subsist upon German beer, soap, and writing paper. The blood tax, upon + which I shall say something further on, is a wholly different matter. + </p> + <p> + A short drive brought us to a noble château, inside a beautifully wooded + park, the iron gateway showing armorial bearings. Indoors there was + nothing to remind me that I had exchanged Republican France for autocratic + Prussia. Guests, servants, speech, usages, books, were French, or, in the + case of the three latter, English. Every member of the family spoke + English, afternoon tea was served as at home, and the latest Tauchnitz + volumes lay on the table. + </p> + <p> + Difficult indeed it seemed to realise that I had crossed the frontier, + that though within easy reach, almost in sight of it, the miss, alas! Was + as good as a mile. + </p> + <p> + Alsace-Lorraine, I may here mention, is a verbal annexation dating from + 1871. Whilst Alsace was German until its conquest by Louis XIV., Lorraine, + the country of Jeanne d’Arc, had been in part French and French-speaking + for centuries. Alsace under French <i>régime</i> retained alike + Protestantism and Teutonic speech. We can easily understand that the + changes of 1871 should come much harder to the Catholic Lorrainers than to + their Protestant Alsatian neighbours. + </p> + <p> + Bitterness of feeling does not seem to me to diminish with time. On the + occasion of my third visit to Germanised France, I found things much the + same, the clinging to France ineradicable as ever, nothing like the + faintest sign of reconciliation with Imperial rule. + </p> + <p> + One might suppose that, after a generation, some slight approach to + intercourse would exist among the French and Prussian populations. By the + upper classes the Germans, no matter what their rank or position, remain + tabooed as were Jews in the Ghetto of former days. + </p> + <p> + At luncheon next day, my host smilingly informed me that he had filled up + the paper left by the commissary of police, concerning their newly arrived + English visitor. We are here, it must be remembered, in a perpetual state + of siege. + </p> + <p> + “I put down Canterbury as your birthplace—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Good Heavens!” exclaimed I, “I was born near Ipswich.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he said, smiling, “I just put down the first name that occurred to + me, and filled in particulars as to age, etc.,” here he bowed, “after a + fashion which I felt would be satisfactory to yourself.” + </p> + <p> + This kind of domiciliary visit may appear a joking matter, but to live + under a state of siege is no subject for pleasantry, as I shall show + further on. Here is another instance of the comic side of annexation, if + the adjective could be applied to such a subject. In the salon I noticed a + sofa cushion, covered, as I thought to my astonishment, with the Prussian + flag. But my hostess smilingly informed me that, as the Tricolour was + forbidden in Germanised Lorraine, by way of having the next best thing to + it, she had used the Russian colours, symbol of the new ally of France. + </p> + <p> + Another vexation of unfortunate <i>annexés</i> is in the matter of + bookbinding. French people naturally like to have their books bound in + French style, but it is next to impossible to get this done in Alsace. If + the books are bound in France, there is the extra cost of carriage and + duty. + </p> + <p> + A very pleasant time I had under this French roof on German soil. Our days + were spent in walks and drives, our evenings entertained with music and + declamation. Now we had the Kreutzer Sonata exquisitely performed by + amateur musicians, now we listened to selections from Lamartine, Nadaud, + Victor Hugo and others, as admirably rendered by a member of this + accomplished family, all the members of which were now gathered together. + I saw something alike of their poorer and richer neighbours, all of course + being their country-people. This social circle, including the household + staff, was rigorously French. + </p> + <p> + Let me now describe a Lorraine lunch, as the French <i>goûter</i> or + afternoon collation is universally called, our hosts being a family of + peasant farmers, their guests the house party from the château. We had + only to drive a mile or two before quitting annexed France for France + proper, the respective frontiers indicated by tall posts bearing the name + and eagle of the German Empire and the R.F. of France. + </p> + <p> + “You are now on French soil,” said my host to me with a smile of + satisfaction, and the very horses seemed to realise the welcome fact. + Right merrily they trotted along, joyfully sniffing the air of home. + </p> + <p> + The Lorraine villages are very unlike their spick and span neighbours of + Alsace, visited by me two years before. Why Catholic villages should be + dirty and Protestant ones clean, I will not attempt to explain. Such, + however, is the case. As we drove through the line of dung-heaps and + liquid manure rising above what looked like barns, I was ill-prepared for + the comfort and tidiness prevailing within. What a change when the door + opened, and our neatly dressed entertainers ushered us into their + dining-room! Here, looking on to a well-kept garden was a table spread + with spotless linen, covers being laid as in a middle-class house. An + armchair, invariable token of respect, was placed for the English visitor; + then we sat down to table, two blue-bloused men, uncle and nephew, and + three elderly women in mob caps and grey print gowns, dispensing + hospitality to their guests, belonging to the <i>noblesse</i> of Lorraine. + There was no show of subservience on the one part, or of condescension on + the other. Conversation flowed easily and gaily as at the château itself. + </p> + <p> + I here add that whilst the French <i>noblesse</i> and <i>bourgeoisie</i> + remain apart as before the Revolution, with the peasant folk it is not so. + These good people were not tenants or in any way dependents on my hosts. + They were simply humble friends, the great tie being that of nationality. + The order of the feast was peculiar. Being Friday no delicacy in the shape + of a raised game pie could be offered; we were, therefore, first of all + served with bread and butter and <i>vin ordinaire</i>. Then a dish of + fresh honey in the comb was brought out; next, a huge open plum tart. When + the tart had disappeared, cakes of various kinds and a bottle of good + Bordeaux were served; finally, grapes, peaches, and pears with choice + liqueurs. Healths were drunk, glasses chinked, and when at last the long + lunch came to an end, we visited dairy, bedrooms, and garden, all patterns + of neatness. This family of small peasant owners is typical of the very + best rural population in France. The united capital of the group—uncle, + aunts and nephew—would not perhaps exceed a few thousand pounds, but + the land descending from generation to generation had increased in value + owing to improved cultivation. Hops form the most important crop + hereabouts. This village of French Lorraine testified to the educational + liberality of the Republic. For the three hundred and odd souls the + Government here provides schoolmaster, schoolmistress, and a second female + teacher for the infant school, their salaries being double those paid + under the Empire. + </p> + <p> + Now a word concerning the blood-tax. Rich and well-to-do French residents + in the annexed provinces can afford to send their sons across the frontier + and pay the heavy fines imposed for default. With the artisan and peasant + the case is otherwise. Here defection from military service means not only + lifelong separation but worldly ruin. To the wealthy an occasional sight + of their young soldiers in France is an easy matter. A poor man must stay + at home. If his sons quit Alsace-Lorraine in order to go through their + military service on French soil, they cannot return until they have + attained their forty-fifth year, and the penalty of default is so high + that it means, and is intended to mean, ruin. There is also another crying + evil of the system. French conscripts forced into the German Army are + always sent as far as possible from home. If they fall ill and die, kith + or kin can seldom reach them. Again, as French is persistently spoken in + the home, and German only learnt under protest at the primary school, the + young <i>annexé</i> enters upon his enforced military service with an + imperfect knowledge of the latter language, the hardships of his position + being thereby immensely enhanced. No one here hinted to me of any especial + severity being shown to French conscripts on this account, but we can + easily understand the disadvantage under which they labour. I visited a + tenant farmer on the other side of the frontier, whose only son had lately + died in hospital at Berlin. The poor father was telegraphed for but + arrived too late, the blow saddening for ever an honest and laborious + life. This farmer was well-to-do, but had other children. How then could + he pay the fine imposed upon the defaulter? And, of course, French service + involved lifelong separation. Cruel, indeed, is the dilemma of the + unfortunate <i>annexé</i>. But the blood-tax is felt in other ways. During + my third stay in Germanised Lorraine the autumn manoeuvres were taking + place. This means that alike rich and poor are compelled to lodge and cook + for as many soldiers as the authorities choose to impose upon them. I was + assured by a resident that poor people often bid the worn-out men to their + humble board, the conscripts’ fare being regulated according to the + strictest economy. In rich houses, German officers receive similar + hospitality, but we can easily understand under what conditions. + </p> + <p> + The annexed provinces are of course being Germanised by force. Immigration + continues at a heavy cost. Here is an instance in point. + </p> + <p> + When Alsace was handed over to the German Government it boasted of + absolute solvency. It is now burdened with debt, owing, among many other + reasons, to the high salaries received by the more important German + officials; the explanation of this being that the position of these + functionaries is so unpleasant they have to be bribed into such + expatriation. Thus their salaries are double what they were under French + rule. Not that friction often occurs between the German civil authorities + and French subjects; everyone bears witness to the politeness of the + former, but it is impossible for them not to feel the distastefulness of + their own presence. On the other hand, the perpetual state of siege is a + grievance daily felt. Free speech, liberty of the press, rights of public + meeting, are unknown. Not long since, a peasant just crossed the frontier, + and as he touched French soil, shouted “Vive la France!” On his return he + was convicted of <i>lèse majesté</i> and sent to prison. Another story + points to the same moral. At a meeting of a village council an aged + peasant farmer, who cried “We are not subjects but servants of William + II.” Was imprisoned for six weeks. The occasion that called forth the + protest was an enforced levy for some public works of no advantage + whatever to the inhabitants. Sad indeed is the retrospect, sadder still + the looking forward, with which we quit French friends in the portions of + territory now known as Alsace-Lorraine. And when we say “Adieu” the word + has additional meaning. Epistolary intercourse, no more than table-talk, + is sacred. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. — IN GERMANISED ALSACE. + </h2> + <p> + Who would quit Alsace without a pilgrimage to Saverne and the country home + in which Edmond About wrote his most delightful pages and in which he + dispensed such princely hospitality? The author of “Le Fellah “ was forced + to forsake his beloved retreat after the events of 1870-1; the experiences + of this awful time are given in his volume “Alsace,” and dedicated to his + son—<i>pour qu’il se souvienne</i>—in order that he might + remember. Here also as under that Lorraine roof I felt myself in France. + At the time of my visit the property was for sale. French people, however, + are loth to purchase estates in the country they may be said to inhabit on + sufferance, while rich Germans prefer to build palatial villas within the + triple fortifications and thirteen newly constructed forts which are + supposed to render Strasburg impregnable. + </p> + <p> + The railway takes us from Strasburg in an hour to the picturesque old town + of Saverne, beautifully placed above the Zorn. Turning our backs upon the + one long street winding upwards to the château, we follow a road leading + into the farthermost recesses of the valley, from which rise on either + side the wooded spurs of the lower Vosges. Here in a natural <i>cul-de-sac</i>, + wedged in between pine-clad slopes, is as delightful a retreat as genius + or a literary worker could desire. On the superb September day of my visit + the place looked its best, and warm was the welcome we received from the + occupiers, a cultivated and distinguished French Protestant family, + formerly living at Srasburg, but since the events of 1870-1 removed to + Nancy. They hired this beautiful place from year to year, merely spending + a few weeks here during the Long Vacation. The intellectual atmosphere + still recalled bygone days, when Edmond About used to gather round him + literary brethren, alike French and foreign. Pleasant it was to find here + English-speaking, England-loving, French people. Nothing can be simpler + than the house itself, in spite of its somewhat pretentious tower of which + About wrote so fondly. His study is a small, low-pitched room, not too + well lighted, but having a lovely outlook; beyond, the long, narrow + gardens, fruit, flower and vegetable, one leading out of another, rising + pine woods and the lofty peaks of the Vosges. So remote is this spot that + wild deer venture into the gardens, whilst squirrels make themselves at + home close to the house doors. Our host gave me much information about the + peasants. Although not nearly so prosperous as before the annexation, they + are doing fairly well. Some, indeed, are well off, possessing capital to + the amount of several thousand pounds, whilst a millionaire, that is, the + possessor of a million francs or forty thousand pounds, is found here and + there. The severance from France entailed, however, one enormous loss on + the farmer. This was the withdrawal of tobacco culture, a monopoly of the + French State which afforded maximum profits to the cultivator. With regard + to the indebtedness of the peasant-owner, my informant said that it + certainly existed, but not to any great extent, usury having been + prohibited by the local Reichstag a few years before. Again I found myself + among French surroundings, French traditions, French speech. Let me add, + however, that I heard none of the passionate regrets, recriminations, and + wishes that had constantly fallen on my ears ten years before. One prayer, + and one only, seems in every heart, on every lip, “Peace, peace—only + let us have peace!” It must be borne in mind that 20,000 French Alsatians + quitted Strasburg alone, and that those of the better classes who were + unable to emigrate sent their young sons across the frontier before the + age of seventeen. Thus, by a gradual process, the French element is being + eliminated from the towns, whilst in the country annexation came in a very + different guise. + </p> + <p> + This will be seen from the account of another excursion made with French + friends living in Strasburg. + </p> + <p> + It is a beautiful drive to Blaesheim, southwest of the city, in a direct + line with the Vosges and Oberlin’s country. We pass the enormous public + slaughterhouses and interminable lines of brand-new barracks, then under + one of the twelve stone gates with double portals that now protect the + city, leaving behind us the tremendous earthworks and powder magazines, + and are soon in the open plain. This vast plain is fertile and well + cultivated. On either side we see narrow, ribbon-like strips of maize, + potatoes, clover, hops, beetroot, and hemp. There are no apparent + boundaries of the various properties and no trees or houses to break the + uniformity. The farm-houses and premises, as in the Pyrenees, are grouped + together, forming the prettiest, neatest villages imaginable. Entzheim is + one of these. The broad, clean street, the large white-washed timber + houses, with projecting porches and roofs, may stand for a type of the + Alsatian “Dorf.” The houses are white-washed outside once a year, the + mahogany-coloured rafters, placed crosswise, forming effective + ornamentation. No manure heaps before the door are seen here, as in + Brittany, all is clean and sightly. We meet numbers of pedestrians, the + women mostly wearing the Alsatian head-dress, an enormous bow of broad + black ribbon with long ends, worn fan-like on the head, and lending an air + of great severity. The remainder of the costume—short blue or red + skirt (the colours distinguishing Protestant and Catholic), gay kerchief, + and apron—have all but vanished. As we approach our destination the + outlines of the Vosges become more distinct, and the plain is broken by + sloping vineyards and fir woods. We see no labourers afield, and, with one + exception, no cattle. It is strange how often cattle are cooped up in + pastoral regions. The farming here is on the old plan, and milch cows are + stabled from January to December, only being taken out to water. + Agricultural machinery and new methods are penetrating these villages at a + snail’s pace. The division of property is excessive. There are no + lease-holds, and every farmer, alike on a small or large scale, is an + owner. + </p> + <p> + Two classes in Alsace have been partly won over to the German rule; one is + that of the Protestant clergy, the other that of the peasants. + </p> + <p> + The Third Empire persistently snubbed its Protestant subjects, then, as at + the time of the Revocation, numbering many most distinguished citizens. No + attempts, moreover, were made to Gallicise the German-speaking population + of the Rhine provinces. Thus the wrench was much less felt here than in + Catholic, French-speaking Lorraine. Higher stipends, good dwelling-houses + and schools, have done much to soften annexation to the clergy. An + afternoon “at home” in a country parsonage a few miles from Strasburg, + reminded me of similar functions in an English rectory. + </p> + <p> + At the parsonage of Blaesheim we were warmly welcomed by friends, and in + their pretty garden found a group of ladies and gentlemen playing at + croquet, among them two nice-looking girls wearing the Alsatian <i>coiffe</i> + that enormous construction of black ribbon just mentioned. These young + ladies were daughters of the village mayor, a rich peasant, and had been + educated in Switzerland, speaking French correctly and fluently. Many + daughters of wealthy peasants marry civilians at Strasburg, when they for + once and for all cast off the last feature of traditional costume. After a + little chat, and being bidden to return to tea in half an hour, we visited + some other old acquaintances of my friends, a worthy peasant family + residing close by. Here also a surprise was in store for me. The head of + the house and his wife—both far advanced in the sixties and who + might have walked out of one of Erckman-Chatrian’s novels—could not + speak a word of French, although throughout the best part of their lives + they had been French subjects! + </p> + <p> + Admirable types they were, but by no means given to sentiment or romance. + The good man assured me in his quaint patois that he did not mind whether + he was French, German, or, for the matter of that, English, so long as he + could get along comfortably and peacefully! He added, however, that under + the former <i>régime</i> taxes had been much lower and farming much more + profitable. The good folk brought out bread and wine, and we toasted each + other in right hearty fashion. Over the sideboard of their clean, + well-furnished sitting room hung a small photograph of William II. On our + return to our first host we found a sumptuous five o’clock tea prepared + for the ladies, whilst more solid refreshments awaited the gentlemen in + the garden. + </p> + <p> + Even in a remote corner of Alsace, memorialized by Germany’s greatest + poet, we find pathetic clinging to France. + </p> + <p> + Everyone has read the story of Goethe and Frederika, how the great poet, + then a student at the Strasburg University, was taken by a comrade to the + simple parsonage of Sesenheim, how the artless daughter of the house with + her sweet Alsatian songs, enchanted the brilliant youth, how he found + himself, as he tells us in his autobiography, suddenly in the immortal + family of the Vicar of Wakefield. “And here comes Moses too!” cried + Goethe, as Frederika’s brother appeared. That accidental visit has in turn + immortalised Sesenheim. The place breathes of Frederika. It has become a + shrine dedicated to pure, girlish love. + </p> + <p> + A new line of railway takes us from Strasburg in about an hour over the + flat, monotonous stretch of country, so slowly crossed by diligence in + Goethe’s time. The appearance of the city from this side—the French + side—is truly awful: we see fortification after fortification, with + vast powder magazines at intervals, on the outer earthworks bristling rows + of cannon, beyond, several of the thirteen forts constructed since the + war. The bright greenery of the turf covering these earthworks does not + detract from their dreadful appearance. Past the vast workshops and stores + of the railway station—a small town in itself—past market + gardens, hop gardens, hayfields, beech-woods, all drenched with a week of + rain, past old-world villages, the railway runs to Sesenheim, alongside + the high road familiar to Goethe. We alight at the neat, clean, trim + station (in the matter of cleanliness the new <i>regime</i> bears the palm + over the old), and take the flooded road to the village. An old, bent, + wrinkled peasant woman, speaking French, directs us for full information + about Frédérique—thus is the name written in French—to the + auberge. First, with no little interest and pride, she unhooks from her + own wall a framed picture, containing portraits of Goethe, and Frederika, + and drawings of church and parsonage as they were. The former has been + restored and the latter wholly rebuilt. + </p> + <p> + As we make our way to the little inn over against these, we pass a new + handsome communal school in course of erection. On questioning two + children in French, they shake their heads and pass on. The thought + naturally arises—did the various French Governments, throughout the + period of a hundred and odd years ending in 1870, do much in the way of + assimilating the German population of Alsace? + </p> + <p> + It would not seem so, seeing that up till the Franco-Prussian war the + country folk retained their German speech, or at least patois. Under the + present rule only German is taught in communal schools, and in the + gymnasiums or lycées, two hours a week only being allowed for the teaching + of French. At the Auberge du Bouf, over against the church and parsonage, + we chat with the master in French about Goethe and Frederika; his + womankind, however, only spoke patois. Here, nevertheless, we find French + hearts, French sympathies, and occasionally French gaiety. + </p> + <p> + Unidyllic, yet full of instruction, is the drive in the opposite direction + to Kehl. We are here approaching friendly frontiers, yet the aspect is + hardly less dreadful. True that cannon do not bristle on the outer line of + the triple fortifications; otherwise the state of things is similar. We + see lines of vast powder magazines, enormous barracks of recent + construction, preparations for defence, on a scale altogether + inconceivable and indescribable. Little wonder that meat is a shilling a + pound, instead of fourpence as before the annexation, that bread has + doubled in price, taxation also, and, to make matters worse, that trade + has remained persistently dull! + </p> + <p> + A tremendous triple-arched, stone gate, guarded by sentinels, has been + erected on this side of the lower Rhine, over against the Duchy of Baden. + No sooner are we through than our hearts are rejoiced with signs of peace + and innocent enjoyment, restaurants and coffee gardens, family groups + resting under the trees. Beyond, flowing briskly amid wooded banks to + right and left, is the Rhine, a glorious sight, compensating for so many + that have just given us the heartache. + </p> + <p> + Of Strasburg I will say little. Full descriptions of the new city, for + such an expression is no figure of speech, are given in the English, + French, and German guide books. The first care of the German Government + after coming into possession was to repair the havoc caused by the + bombardment, the rebuilding of public buildings, monuments and streets + that had been partially or entirely destroyed in 1871. Among these were + the Museum and Public Library, the Protestant church, several orphanages + and hospitals, lastly, incredible as it may seem, the beautiful octagonal + tower of the Cathedral. The incidents of this vandalism have just been + graphically described in the new volume of the brothers’ Margueritte prose + epic, dealing with the Franco-Prussian War, entitled “Les Braves Gens.” + </p> + <p> + I remember writing on the occasion of my first visit to Strasburg, a few + years after these events—“There is very little to see at Strasburg + now. The Library with its priceless treasures of books and manuscripts, + the Museum of painting and sculpture, rich in <i>chefs d’oeuvre</i> of the + French school, the handsome Protestant church, the theatre, the Palais de + Justice, were all completely destroyed by the Prussian bombardment, not to + speak of buildings of lesser importance, four hundred private dwellings, + and hundreds of civilians killed and wounded by the shells. Nor was the + cathedral spared, and would doubtless have perished altogether also but + for the enforced surrender of the heroic city.” + </p> + <p> + Since that sad time a new Strasburg has sprung up, of which the University + is the central feature. A thousand students now frequent this great school + of learning, the professorial staff numbering a hundred. One noteworthy + point is the excessive cheapness of a learned or scientific education. + Autocratic Prussia emulates democratic France. I was assured by an + Alsatian who had graduated here that a year’s fees need not exceed ten + pounds! Students board and lodge themselves outside the University, and, + of course, as economically as they please. They consist chiefly of + Germans, for sons of French parents of the middle and upper ranks are sent + over the frontier before the age of seventeen in order to evade the German + military service. They thus exile themselves for ever. This cruel + severance of family ties is, as I have said, one of the saddest effects of + annexation. Without and within, the group of buildings forming the + University is of great splendour. Alike architecture and decoration are on + a costly scale; the vast corridors with tesselated marble floors, marble + columns, domes covered with frescoes, statuary, stained glass, and gilded + panels, must impress the mind of the poorer students. Less agreeable is + the reflection of the taxpayer. This new Imperial quarter represents + millions of marks, whilst the defences of Strasburg alone represent many + millions more. One of the five facultés is devoted to Natural Science. The + Museum of Natural History, the mineralogical collections, and the chemical + laboratories have each their separate building, whilst at the extreme end + of the University gardens is the handsome new observatory, with covered + way leading to the equally handsome residence of the astronomer in charge. + Thus the learned star-gazer can reach his telescope under cover in wintry + weather. In addition to the University library described above, the + various class-rooms have each small separate libraries, sections of + history, literature, etc., on which the students can immediately lay their + hands. All the buildings are heated with gas or water. + </p> + <p> + Just beyond these precincts we come upon a striking contrast—row + after row of brand-new barracks, military bakeries, foundries, and stores; + piles of cannon balls, powder magazines, war material, one would think, + sufficient to blow up all Europe. Incongruous indeed is this juxtaposition + of a noble seat of learning and militarism only commensurate with barbaric + times. A good way off is the School of Medicine. This, indeed, owes little + or nothing to the new régime, having been founded by the French Government + long before 1870. It is a vast group of buildings, one of which can only + be glanced at with a shudder. My friend pointed out to me an annexe or + “vivisection department.” Here, as he expressed it, is maintained quite a + menagerie of unhappy animals destined for the tortures of the vivisector’s + knife. The very thought sickened me, and I was glad to give up + sight-seeing and drop in for half-an-hour’s chat with a charming old lady, + French to the backbone, living under the mighty shadow of the Cathedral. + She entertained me with her experiences during the bombardment, when + cooped up with a hundred persons, rich and poor, Jew and Gentile, all + passing fifteen days in a dark, damp cellar. Many horrible stories she + related, but somehow they seemed less horrible than the thought of tame, + timid, and even affectionate and intelligent creatures, slowly and + deliberately tortured to death, for the sake, forsooth, of what? Of this + corporeal frame man himself has done his best to vitiate and dishonour, + mere clayey envelope—so theologians tell us—of an immortal + soul! + </p> + <p> + Strasburg, like Metz, is one vast camp, at the time of this second visit + the forty thousand soldiers in garrison here were away for the manoeuvres. + In another week or two the town would swarm with them. + </p> + <p> + I will now say a few words about the administration of the annexed + provinces, a subject on which exists much misapprehension. + </p> + <p> + As I have explained, no liberty, as we understand it, exists for the + French subjects of the German Emperor, neither freedom of speech, nor of + the press, nor of public meeting are enjoyed in Alsace and the portion of + Lorraine no longer French. A rigorous censorship of books as well as + newspapers is carried on. Even religious worship is under perpetual + surveillance. One by one French pastors and priests are supplanted by + their German brethren. A much respected pastor of Mulhouse, long resident + in that city and ardently French, told me some years ago that he expected + to be the last of his countrymen permitted to officiate. Police officers + wearing plain clothes attend the churches in which French is still + permitted on Sunday. There is nothing that can be called representative or + real parliamentary government. The Stadtholder or Governor is in reality a + dictator armed with autocratic powers. He can, at a moment’s notice, expel + citizens, or stop newspapers. As to administration, it rests in the hands + of the State Secretariat or body of Ministers, three in number. There is a + pretence at home rule, but one fact suffices to explain its character and + working. Of the thirty members forming the local Reichstag, sitting at + Strasburg, fifteen are always named by the Stadtholder himself. This + little Chamber of Deputies deliberates upon provincial affairs, all Bills + having to pass the Chamber at Berlin and receive the Imperial sanction + before becoming law. As to the party of protest in the Reichstag itself, + formerly headed by the late Jean Dollfuss, I was assured that it had + ceased to exist. Years before, then burdened with the weight of care and + years, the great patriot of Mulhouse had said to me, “I no longer take my + seat at Berlin. Of what good?” And were he living still, that great and + good man, burning as was his patriotism, inextinguishable as was his love + for France, would doubtless echo the words I now heard on every lip, + “Peace, peace; only let us have peace!” + </p> + <p> + Whilst at Strasburg German has crowded out French, at Mulhouse I found + French still universally spoken. The prohibition of native speech in + schools is not only a domestic but a commercial grievance. As extensive + business relations exist between the two countries, especially near the + frontier, a knowledge of both French and German is really necessary to all + classes. Even tourists in Alsace-Lorraine nowadays fare badly without some + smattering of the latter language. Hotel-keepers especially look to the + winning side, and do their very utmost to Germanise their establishments. + Shopkeepers must live, and find it not only advantageous but necessary to + follow the same course. Sad indeed is the spectacle of Germanised France! + Nemesis here faces us in militarism, crushing the people with taxation and + profoundly shocking the best instincts of humanity. + </p> + <p> + In conclusion I must do justice to the extreme courtesy of German railway + and other officials. Many employés of railways and post offices—all, + be it remembered, Government officials—do not speak any French at + all, especially in out-of-the-way places. At the same time, all officials, + down to the rural postman, will do their very best to help out + French-speaking strangers with their own scant vocabulary of French words. + </p> + <p> + My Alsatian hosts, one and all, I found quite ready to do justice to the + authorities and their representatives, but, as I have insisted upon + before, an insuperable barrier, the fathomless gulf created by injustice, + exists between conquerors and conquered. And only last year dining with my + hosts of Germanised Lorraine in Paris, I asked them if in this respect + matters had changed for the better. The answer I received was categoric—“Nothing + is changed since your visit to us. French and Germans remain apart as + before.” + </p> + <p> + “East of Paris” has led me somewhat farther than I intended, but to a + lover of France, no less than to a French heart, France beyond the Vosges + is France still! + </p> + <h3> + THE END. + </h3> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of East of Paris, by Matilda Betham-Edwards + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EAST OF PARIS *** + +***** This file should be named 8734-h.htm or 8734-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/7/3/8734/ + + +Text file produced by Carlo Traverso, Debra Storr, Sandra Brown, +Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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