East of Paris

M >> Matilda Betham Edwards >> East of Paris

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"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 cure, 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.

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.

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.

It must be confessed that the theatre on this especial night was not a
crowded house. In the first place, three large soirees, 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.

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 a 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.

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.

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.

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.

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 Compiegne 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 Betheny 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 Genie 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.

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.

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.

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 naive 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'armee!"

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 Andre and M.
Delcasse 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.

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.

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.

CHAPTER XVII.

SOULAINES AND BAR-SUR-AUBE.

The first of these places mentioned is a Champenois village twelve miles
from a railway station. From the windows of my friends' chateau I look
upon a magnificent deer park, where during the oft-time torrid heat of
summer delicious shade is to be found.

Far away vast forests bound the horizon, to the north a hot open road
leading to Brienne-le-Chateau, 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 cure, even in these days,
receives on an average little more than Goldsmith's country parson,
"counted rich on forty pounds a year." This cure'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!

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.

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?

Next, let me say a word about the _juge de paix_ 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.

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. Chateau 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 fete itself.

By nine a.m. horses and carriages of the chateau, 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:--

Hors d'oeuvre Salade de saison
Radis, beurre frais, Langue fumee Fruits
Bouchees a la Reine Brioche. Nougat
Daim, sauce chassuer Desserts varies
Galantine truffee Vins
Salmis de canards Pineau, Bordeaux, Champagne
Choux-fleurs Cafe, Liqueurs.
Dinde truffee.

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 _al fresco_ 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!

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.

As we approach Bar-sur-Aube we come upon a wide and beautiful prospect,
wooded hills dominating the plain.

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 _francs-tireurs_, gave the Germans more trouble than any
commander of an army corps, twice had a price of L1,000 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.

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."

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.

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!

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.

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