MTEAU-AND-COUNTRY
LIFE-IN-FRANCE-
CO
h-
o
ARMING
LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA.
Class
JL ^K '
CHATEAU AND COUNTRY LIFE
IN FRANCE
BOOKS BY MADAME WADDINGTON
PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Chateau and Country Life in France. With
24 full-page illustrations. 8vo, . net $2.50
Italian Letters of a Diplomat's Wife. With
24 full -page illustrations. 8vo, . net $2.50
Letters of a Diplomat's Wife. With 25
full-page illustrations. 8vo, . . net $2.50
:* .*. : ::*;.
A:..::' ...!' > : .';-
A fnuntry wedding. ^l j age 26.
CHATEAU AND COUNTRY
LIFE IN FRANCE
BY
MARY KING WADDINGTON
AUTHOR OF "LETTERS OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE " AND "ITALIAN LETTERS
OF A DIPLOMAT'S WIFE"
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
1909
COPYRIGHT, 1908, B*
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
Published October, 1908
Second Impression, December, 1008
Third Impression, January, 1909
CONTENTS
I. CHATEAU LIFE c 3
II. COUNTRY VISITS 36
in. THE HOME OF LAFAYETTE 88
IV. WINTER AT THE CHATEAU 105
V. CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS 144
VI. CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS . . . . v . 200
VII. A RACINE CELEBRATION . 229
VIII. A CORNER OF NORMANDY 252
IX. A NORMAN TOWN . . 272
X. NORMAN CHATEAUX 291
XI. BOULOGNE-SUR-MER . . , t 309
226741
ILLUSTRATIONS
A COUNTRY WEDDING FRONTISPIECE.
FACING PAGE
A FINE OLD CHATEAU 2
I LOVED TO HEAR HER PLAY BEETHOVEN AND HANDEL . . 6
THERE WERE ALL SORTS AND KINDS . . . . . 18
FERDINAND 34
"MERCI, JE VAIS BIEN " 38
LONG PAUSES WHEN NOBODY SEEMED TO HAVE ANYTHING TO
SAY 42
THEN HE LIGHTED A FIRE . 46
I SUGGESTED THAT THE WHOLE CHASSE SHOULD ADJOURN TO
THE CHATEAU 130
SOME RED-COATED, SOME GREEN, ALL WITH BREECHES AND
HIGH MUDDY BOOTS 134
PEASANT WOMEN 142
A VISIT AT THE CHATEAU 154
SOLDIERS AT THE CHATEAU 170
THE MAYOR AND A NICE, RED-CHEEKED, WRINKLED OLD
WOMAN WERE WAITING FOR US 206
THERE WAS ONE HANDSOME BIT OF OLD LACE ON A WHITE
NAPPE FOR THE ALTAR 214
THEY WERE ALL STREAMING UP THE SLIPPERY HILL-SIDE . . 218
ALL THE CHILDREN IN PROCESSION PASSED . . 222
ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGE
THERE WAS ONE POOR OLD WOMAN STILL GAZING SPELL-BOUND . 226
L'ETABUSSEMENT, BAGNOLES DE L'ORNE .... 256
IN DOMFRONT SOME OF THE OLD TOWERS ARE CONVERTED INTO
MODERN DWELLINGS 260
CHATEAU DE LASSAY 264
ENTRANCE TO HOTEL OF THE COMTE DE FLORIAN . . 274
MARKET WOMEN, VALOGNES 280
OLD GATE-WAY, VALOGNES 288
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
CHATEAU LIFE
MY first experience of country life in France,
about thirty years ago, was in a fine old
chateau standing high in pretty, undulating,
wooded country close to the forest of Villers-Cot-
terets, and overlooking the great plains of the
Oise big green fields stretching away to the sky-
line, broken occasionally by little clumps of wood,
with steeples rising out of the green, marking the
villages and hamlets which, at intervals, are scat-
tered over the plains, and in the distance the blue
line of the forest. The chateau was a long, per-
fectly simple, white stone building. When I first
saw it, one bright November afternoon, I said to
my husband as we drove up, "What a charming
old wooden house!" which remark so astonished
him that he could hardly explain that it was all
stone, and that no big houses (nor small, either)
in France were built of wood. I, having been
born in a large white wooden house in America,
couldn't understand why he was so horrified at my
[3]
IN FRANCE
ignorance of French architecture. It was a fine
old house, high in the centre, with a lower wing
on each side. There were three drawing-rooms,
a library, billiard-room, and dining-room on the
ground floor. The large drawing-room, where we
always sat, ran straight through the house, with
glass doors opening out on the lawn on the en-
trance side and on the other into a long gallery
which ran almost the whole length of the house.
It was always filled with plants and flowers, open
hi summer, with awnings to keep out the sun;
shut in winter with glass windows, and warmed
by one of the three caloriferes of the house. In
front of the gallery the lawn sloped down to the
wall, which separated the place from the highroad.
A belt of fine trees marked the path along the wall
and shut out the road completely, except in certain
places where an opening had been made for the view.
We were a small party for such a big house:
only the proprietor and his wife (old people), my
husband and myself. The life was very simple,
almost austere. The old people lived in the centre
of the chateau, W.* and I in one of the wings. It
had been all fitted up for us, and was a charming
little house. W. had the ground-floor a bed-
room, dressing-room, cabinet de travail, dining-
*W. here and throughout this volume refers to Mme. Waddington's
husband, M. William Waddington.
[4]
CHATEAU LIFE
room, and a small room, half reception-room, half
library, where he had a large bookcase filled with
books, which he gave away as prizes or to school
libraries. The choice of the books always inter-
ested me. They were principally translations,
English and American Walter Scott, Marryat,
Fenimore Cooper, etc. The bedroom and cabinet
de travail had glass doors opening on the park. I
had the same rooms upstairs, giving one to my
maid, for I was nervous at being so far away from
anyone. M. and Mme. A. and all the servants
were at the other end of the house, and there were
no bells in our wing (nor anywhere else in the
house except in the dining-room) . When I wanted
a work-woman who was sewing in the lingerie I
had to go up a steep little winding staircase, which
connected our wing with the main building, and
walk the whole length of the gallery to the lingerie,
which was at the extreme end of the other wing.
I was very fond of my rooms. The bedroom and
sitting-room opened on a balcony with a lovely
view over wood and park. When I sat there in
the morning with my petit dejeuner cup of tea
and roll I could see all that went on in the place.
First the keeper would appear, a tall, handsome
man, rather the northern type, with fair hair and
blue eyes, his gun always over his shoulder, sa-
coche at his side, swinging along with the free,
[5]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
vigorous step of a man accustomed to walk all
day. Then Hubert, the coachman, would come
for orders, two little fox-terriers always accom-
panying him, playing and barking, and rolling
about on the grass. Then the farmer's wife,
driving herself in her gig, and bringing cheese,
butter, milk, and sometimes chickens when our
bassecour was getting low. A little later another
lot would appear, people from the village or can-
ton, wanting to see their deputy and have all man-
ner of grievances redressed. It was curious some-
times to make out, at the end of a long story, told
in peasant dialect, with many digressions, what
particular service notre depute was expected to
render. I was present sometimes at some of the
conversations, and was astounded at W.'s patience
and comprehension of what was wanted I never
understood half.
We generally had our day to ourselves. We
rode almost every morning long, delicious gallops
in the woods, the horses going easily and lightly
over the grass roads; and the days W. was away
and couldn't ride, I used to walk about the park
and gardens. The kitchen garden was enormous
almost a park in itself and in the season I eat
pounds of white grapes, which ripened to a fine
gold color on the walls in the sun. We rarely saw
M. and Mme. A. until twelve-o'clock breakfast.
CHATEAU LIFE
Sometimes when it was fine we would take a
walk with the old people after breakfast, but we
generally spent our days apart. M. and Mme.
A. were charming people, intelligent, cultivated,
reading everything and keeping quite in touch with
all the literary and Protestant world, but they had
lived for years entirely in the country, seeing few
people, and living for each other. The first even-
ings at the chateau made a great impression upon
me. We dined at 7:30, and always sat after din-
ner in the big drawing-room. There was one
lamp on a round table in the middle of the room
(all the corners shrouded in darkness). M. and
Mme. A. sat in two arm-chairs opposite to each
other, Mme. A. with a green shade in front of her.
Her eyes were very bad; she could neither read
nor work. She had been a beautiful musician,
and still played occasionally, by heart, the classics.
I loved to hear her play Beethoven and Handel,
such a delicate, old-fashioned touch. Music was
at once a bond of union. I often sang for her, and
she liked everything I sang Italian stornelli, old-
fashioned American negro songs, and even the very
light modern French chansonnette, when there was
any melody in them. There were two other arm-
chairs at the table, destined for W. and me. I
will say W. never occupied his. He would sit for
about half an hour with M. A. and talk politics or
[7]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
local matters with him, but after that he departed
to his own quarters, and I remained with the old
people. I felt very strange at first, it was so unlike
anything I had ever seen, so different from my
home life, where we were a happy, noisy family,
always one of the party, generally two, at the
piano, everybody laughing, talking, and enjoying
life, and always a troop of visitors, cousins in-
numerable and friends.
It was a curious atmosphere. I can't say dull
exactly, for both M. and Mme. A. were clever,
and the discussions over books, politics, and life
generally, were interesting, but it was serious, no
vitality, nothing gay, no power of enjoyment.
They had had a great grief in their lives in the loss
of an only daughter,* which had left permanent
traces. They were very kind and did their best
to make me feel at home, and after the first few
evenings I didn't mind. M. A. had always been
in the habit of reading aloud to his wife for an
hour every evening after dinner the paper, an
article in one of the reviews, anything she liked.
I liked that, too, and as I felt more at home used
to discuss everything with M. A. He was quite
horrified one evening when I said I didn't like
Moliere, didn't believe anybody did (particularly
foreigners), unless they had been brought up to it.
*W.'s first wife.
[8]
CHATEAU LIFE
It really rather worried him. He proposed to read
aloud part of the principal plays, which he chose
very carefully, and ended by making a regular
cours de Moliere. He read charmingly, with
much spirit, bringing out every touch of humour
and fancy, and I was obliged to say I found it most
interesting. We read all sorts of things besides
Moliere Lundis de Ste.-Beuve, Chateaubriand,
some splendid pages on the French Revolution,
Taine, Guizot, Mme. de Stael, Lamartine, etc.,
and sometimes rather light memoirs of the Re-
gence and the light ladies of the eighteenth cen-
tury, who apparently mixed up politics, religion,
literature, and lovers in the most simple style.
These last readings he always prepared beforehand,
and I was often surprised at sudden transitions
and unfinished conversations which meant that he
had suppressed certain passages which he judged
too improper for general reading.
He read, one evening, a charming feuilleton of
George Sand. It began: "Le Baron avait cause
politique toute la soiree," which conversation ap-
parently so exasperated the baronne and a young
cousin that they wandered out into the village,
which they immediately set by the ears. The
cousin was an excellent mimic of all animals'
noises. He barked so loud and so viciously that
he started all the dogs in the village, who went
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
nearly mad with excitement, and frightened the
inhabitants out of their wits. Every window was
opened, the cure, the garde champetre, the school-
master, all peering out anxiously into the night,
and asking what was happening. Was it tramps,
or a travelling circus, or a bear escaped from his
showman, or perhaps a wolf? I have wished
sometimes since, when I have heard various barons
talking politics, that I, too, could wander out into
the night and seek distraction outside.
It was a serious life in the big chateau. There
was no railway anywhere near, and very little
traffic on the highroad. After nightfall a mantle
of silence seemed to settle on the house and park-
that absolute silence of great spaces where you
almost hear your own heart beat. W. went to
Paris occasionally, and usually came back by the
last train, getting to the chateau at midnight. I
always waited for him upstairs in my little salon,
and the silence was so oppressive that the most
ordinary noise a branch blowing across a window-
pane, or a piece of charred wood falling on the
hearth sounded like a cannon shot echoing
through the long corridor. It was a relief when I
heard the trot of his big mare at the top of the hill,
quite fifteen minutes before he turned into the park
gates. He has often told me how long and still the
y evenings and nights were during the Franco-Prus-
[10]
CHATEAU LIFE
sian War. He remained at the chateau all through
the war with the old people. After Sedan almost
the whole Prussian army passed the chateau on
their way to Versailles and Paris. The big white
house was seen from a long distance, so, as soon as
it was dark, all the wooden shutters on the side of
the highroad were shut, heavy curtains drawn, and
strict orders given to have as little light as possible.
He was sitting in his library one evening about
dusk, waiting for the man to bring his lamp and
shut the shutters, having had a trying day with the
peasants, who were all frightened and nervous at
the approach of the Germans. He was quite ab-
sorbed in rather melancholy reflections when he
suddenly felt that someone was looking in at the
window (the library was on the ground-floor, with
doors and windows opening on the park). He
rose quickly, going to the window, as he thought
one of the village people wanted to speak to him,
and was confronted by a Pickelhaube and a round
German face flattened against the window-pane.
He opened the window at once, and the man poured
forth a torrent of German, which W. fortunately
understood. While he was talking W. saw forms,
their muskets and helmets showing out quite dis-
tinctly in the half-light, crossing the lawn and com-
ing up some of the broad paths. It was a disagree-
able sight, which he was destined to see many times.
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
It was wonderful what exact information the
Germans had. They knew all the roads, all the
villages and little hamlets, the big chateaux, and
most of the small mills and farms. There were
still traces of the German occupation when I went
to that part of the country; on some of the walls
and houses marks in red paint "4 Pferde, 12
Manner." They generally wanted food and lodging,
which they usually (not always) paid for. Wher-
ever they found horses they took them, but M. A.
and W. had sent all theirs away except one saddle-
horse, which lived in a stable in the woods near the
house. In Normandy, near Rouen, at my brother-
in-law's place, they had German officers and sol-
diers quartered for a long time. They instantly
took possession of horses and carriages, and my
sister-in-law, toiling up a steep hill, would be passed
by her own carriage and horses filled with German
officers. However, on the whole, W. said, the Ger-
mans, as a victorious invading army, behaved well,
the officers always perfectly polite, and keeping their
men in good order. They had all sorts and kinds
at the chateau. They rarely remained long used
to appear at the gate in small bands of four or five,
with a sous-officier, who always asked to see either
the proprietor or someone in authority. He said
how many men and horses he wanted lodged and
fed, and announced the arrival, a little later, of
CHATEAU LIFE
several officers to dine and sleep. They were
always received by M. A. or W., and the same
conversation took place every time. They were
told the servant would show them their rooms, and
their dinner would be served at any hour they
wished. They replied that they would have the
honour of waiting upon the ladies of the family as
soon as they had made a little toilette and removed
the dust of the route, and that they would be very
happy to dine with the family at their habitual
hour. They were then told that the ladies didn't
receive, and that the family dined alone. They
were always annoyed at that answer. As a rule
they behaved well, but occasionally there would
be some rough specimens among the officers.
W. was coming home one day from his usual
round just before nightfall, when he heard loud
voices and a great commotion in the hall M. A.
and one or two German officers. The old man
very quiet and dignified, the Germans most in-
sulting, with threats of taking him off to prison.
W. interfered at once, and learned from the irate
officers what was the cause of the quarrel. They
had asked for champagne (with the usual idea of
foreigners that champagne flowed through all
French chateaux), and M. A. had said there was
none in the house. They knew better, as some of
their men had seen champagne bottles in the cel-
[13]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
lar. W. said there was certainly a mistake there
was none in the house. They again became most
insolent and threatening said they would take
them both to prison. W. suggested, wouldn't it
be better to go .down the cellar with him? Then
they could see for themselves there was none.
Accordingly they all adjourned to the cellar and
W. saw at once what had misled them a quantity
of bottles of eau de Seidlitz, rather like champagne
bottles in shape. They pointed triumphantly to
these and asked what he meant by saying there was
no champagne, and told their men to carry off the
bottles. W. said again it was not champagne he
didn't believe they would like it. They were quite
sure they had found a prize, and all took copious
draughts of the water with disastrous results, as
they heard afterward from the servants.
Later, during the armistice and Prussian occu-
pation, there were soldiers quartered all around
the chateau, and, of course, there were many dis-
tressing scenes. All our little village of Louvry,
near our farm, had taken itself off to the woods.
They were quite safe there, as the Prussians never
came into the woods on account of the sharp-
shooters. W. said their camp was comfortable
enough they had all their household utensils,
beds, blankets, donkeys, and goats, and could
make fires in the clearing in the middle of the
CHATEAU LIFE
wooas. They were mostly women and children,
only a very few old men and young boys left. The
poor things were terrified by the Germans and
Bismarck, of whom they had made themselves an
extraordinary picture. "Monsieur sait que Bis-
marck tue tous les enfants pour qu'il n'y ait plus
de Fran9ais." (Monsieur knows that Bismarck
kills all the children so that there shall be no more
French.) The boys kept W. in a fever. They
had got some old guns, and were always hovering
about on the edge of the wood, trying to have a
shot at a German. He was very uncomfortable
himself at one time during the armistice, for he
was sending off parties of recruits to join one of the
big corps d'armee in the neighbourhood, and they
all passed at the chateau to get their money and
feuille de route, which was signed by him. He
sent them off in small bands of four or five, always
through the woods, with a line to various keepers
and farmers along the route, who could be trusted,
and would help them to get on and find their way.
Of course, if anyone of them had been taken with
W.'s signature and recommendation on him, the
Germans would have made short work of W.,
which he was quite aware of; so every night for
weeks his big black Irish horse Paddy was saddled
and tied to a certain tree in one of the narrow
alleys of the big park the branches so thick and
15]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
low that it was difficult to pass in broad daylight,
and at night impossible, except for him who knew
every inch of the ground. With five minutes' start,
if the alarm had been given, he could have got
away into his own woods, where he knew no one
would follow him.
Hubert, the old coachman, used often to talk to
me about all that troubled time. When the weather
was dark and stormy he used to stay himself half
the night, starting at every sound, and there are so
many sounds in the woods at night, all sorts of
wild birds and little animals that one never hears
in the daytime sometimes a rabbit would dart
out of a hole and whisk round a corner; sometimes
a big buse (sort of eagle) would fly out of a tree with
great flapping of wings; occasionally a wild-cat
with bright-green eyes would come stealthily along
and then make a flying leap over the bushes. His
nerves were so unstrung that every noise seemed a
danger, and he had visions of Germans lying in
ambush in the woods, waiting to pounce upon W.
if he should appear. He said Paddy was so wise,
seemed to know that he must be perfectly quiet,
never kicked nor snorted.
It was impossible to realise those dreadful days
when we were riding and walking in the woods,
so enchanting in the early summer, with thousands
of lilies of the valley and periwinkles growing wild,
[16J
CHATEAU LIFE
and a beautiful blue flower, a sort of orchid. We
used to turn all the village children into the woods,
and they picked enormous bunches of lilies, which
stood all over the chateau in china bowls. I
loved the wood life at all seasons. I often made
the round with W. and his keepers in the autumn
when he was preparing a battue. The men were
very keen about the game, knew the tracks of all
the animals, showing me the long narrow rabbit
tracks, running a long distance toward the quar-
ries, which were full of rabbit holes, and the little
delicate hoof-marks of the chevreuil (roe-deer)
just where he had jumped across the road. The
wild boar was easy to trace little twigs broken,
and ferns and leaves quite crushed, where he had
passed. The wild boars and stags never stayed
very long in our woods went through merely to
the forest of Villers-Cotterets so it was most im-
portant to know the exact moment of their pas-
sage, and there was great pride and excitement
when one was taken.
Another interesting moment was when the coupe
de Tannee was being made. Parts of the woods
were cut down regularly every year, certain squares
marked off. The first day's work was the mark-
ing of the big trees along the alleys which were to
remain a broad red ring around the trunks being
very conspicuous. Then came the thinning of
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
the trees, cutting off the top branches, and that was
really a curious sight. The men climbed high
into the tree, and then hung on to the trunk with
iron clamps on their feet, with points which stuck
into the bark, and apparently gave them a per-
fectly secure hold, but it looked dangerous to see
them swinging off from the trunk with a sort of axe
in their hands, cutting off the branches with a
swift, sharp stroke. When they finally attacked
the big trees that were to come down it was a much
longer affair, and they made slow progress. They
knew their work well, the exact moment when the
last blow had been given, and they must spring
aside to get out of the way when the tree fell with
a great crash.
There were usually two or three big battues in
November for the neighbouring farmers and small
proprietors. The breakfast always took place at
the keeper's house. We had arranged one room
as a dining-room, and the keeper's wife was a very
good cook; her omelette au lard and civet de lievre,
classic dishes for a shooting breakfast, were ex-
cellent. The repast always ended with a galette
aux amandes made by the chef of the chateau. I
generally went down to the kennels at the end of
the day, and it was a pretty sight when the party
emerged from the woods, first the shooters, then a
regiment of beaters (men who track the game),
[18]
_*'
CHATEAU LIFE
the game cart with a donkey bringing up the rear
the big game, chevreuil or boar, at the bottom of
the cart, the hares and rabbits hanging from the
sides. The sportsmen all came back to the keep-
er's lodge to have a drink before starting off on
their long drive home, and there was always a
great discussion over the entries in the game book
and the number of pieces each man had killed. It
was a very difficult account to make, as every man
counted many more rabbits than the trackers had
found, so they were obliged to make an average of
the game that had been brought in. When all the
guests had departed it was killing to hear the old
keeper's criticisms.
Another important function was a large break-
fast to all the mayors, conseillers d'arrondisse-
ment, and rich farmers of W.'s canton. That
always took place at the chateau, and Mme. A.
and I appeared at table. There were all sorts and
kinds some men in dress coats and white gloves,
some very rough specimens in corduroys and thick-
nailed shoes, having begun life as gar9ons de ferme
(ploughboys). They were all intelligent, well up
in politics, and expressed themselves very well,
but I think, on the whole, they were pleased when
Mme. A. and I withdrew and they went into the
gallery for their coffee and cigars. Mme. A. was
extraordinarily easy talked to them all. They
[19]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
came in exactly the same sort of equipage, a light,
high, two-wheeled trap with a hood, except the
Mayor of La Ferte, our big town, who came in his
victoria.
I went often with W. to some of the big farms
to see the sheep-shearing and the dairies, and
cheese made. The farmer's wife in France is a
very capable, hard-working woman up early,
seeing to everything herself, and ruling all her
carters and ploughboys with a heavy hand. Once
a week, on market day, she takes her cheeses to
the market town, driving herself in her high gig,
and several times I have seen some of them com-
ing home with a cow tied to their wagon behind,
which they had bought at the market. They were
always pleased to see us, delighted to show any-
thing we wanted to see, offered us refreshment
bread and cheese, milk and wine but never came
to see me at the chateau. I made the round of all
the chateaux with Mme. A. to make acquaintance
with the neighbours. They were all rather far off,
but I loved the long drives, almost always through
the forest, which was quite beautiful in all seasons,
changing like the sea. It was delightful in midsum-
mer, the branches of the big trees almost meeting
over our heads, making a perfect shade, and the
long, straight, green alleys stretching away before us,
as far as we could see. When the wood was a little
[20]
CHATEAU LIFE
less thick, the afternoon sun would make long
zigzags of light through the trees and trace curious
patterns upon the hard white road when we
emerged occasionally for a few minutes from the
depths of the forest at a cross-road. It was per-
fectly still, but summer stillness, when one hears
the buzzing and fluttering wings of small birds
and insects, and is conscious of life around one.
The most beautiful time for the forest is, of
course, in the autumn. October and November
are lovely months, with the changing foliage, the
red and yellow almost as vivid as in America, and
always a foreground of moss and brown ferns,
which grow very thick and high all through the
forest. We used to drive sometimes over a thick
carpet of red and yellow leaves, hardly hearing the
horses' hoofs or the noise of the wheels, and when
we turned our faces homeward toward the sunset
there was really a glory of colour in wood and sky.
It was always curiously lonely we rarely met any-
thing or anyone, occasionally a group of wood-
cutters or boys exercising dogs and horses from the
hunting-stables of Villers-Cotterets. At long in-
tervals we would come to a keeper's lodge, stand-
ing quite alone in the middle of the forest, gener-
ally near a carrefour where several roads met.
There was always a small clearing garden and
kennels, and a perfectly comfortable house, but it
[21]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
must be a lonely life for the women when their
husbands are off all day on their rounds. I asked
one of them once, a pretty, smiling young woman
who always came out when the carriage passed,
with three or four children hanging to her skirts,
if she was never afraid, being alone with small
children and no possibility of help, if any drunk-
ards or evilly disposed men came along. She said
no that tramps and vagabonds never came into
the heart of the forest, and always kept clear of
the keeper's house, as they never knew where he
and his gun might be. She said she had had one
awful night with a sick child. She was alone in
the house with two other small children, almost
babies, while her husband had to walk several
miles to get a doctor. The long wait was terrible.
I got to know all the keepers' wives on our side of
the forest quite well, and it was always a great in-
terest to them when we passed on horseback, so
few women rode in that part of France in those
days.
Sometimes, when we were in the heart of the
forest, a stag with wide-spreading antlers would
bound across the road; sometimes a pretty roebuck
would come to the edge of the wood and gallop
quickly back as we got near.
We had a nice couple at the lodge, an old cav-
alry soldier who had been for years coachman at
[22]
CHATEAU LIFE
the chateau and who had married a Scotchwoman,
nurse of one of the children. It was curious to see
the tall, gaunt figure of the Scotchwoman, always
dressed in a short linsey skirt, loose jacket, and
white cap, in the midst of the chattering, excitable
women of the village. She looked so unlike them.
Our peasant women wear, too, a short thick skirt,
loose jacket, and worsted or knit stockings, but
they all wear sabots and on their heads a turban
made of bright-coloured cotton ; the older women,
of course the girls wear nothing on their heads.
They become bent and wrinkled very soon old
women before their time having worked always in
the fields and carried heavy burdens on their backs.
The Scotchwoman kept much to herself and rarely
left the park. But all the women came to her with
their troubles. Nearly always the same story the
men spending their earnings on drink and the poor
mothers toiling and striving from dawn till dark to
give the little ones enough to eat. She was a strict
Protestant, very taciturn and reserved, quite the
type of the old Calvinist race who fought so hard
against the "Scarlet Woman" when the beautiful
and unhappy Mary Stuart was reigning in Scotland
and trying to rule her wild subjects. I often went
to see her and she would tell me of her first days at
the chateau, where everything was so different from
what she was accustomed to.
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
She didn't tell me what Mme. A. did that she
was a very handsome girl and all the men of the
establishment fell in love with her. There were
dramas of jealousy when she finally decided to
marry the coachman. Our chef had learned how
to make various English cakes in London, and
whenever he made buns or a plum-pudding we
used to take some to her. She was a great reader,
and we always kept the Times for her, and she and
I sympathised with each other two Anglo-Saxons
married in France.
Some of the traditions of the chateau were quite
charming. I was sitting in the lodge one day
talking to Mme. Antoine, when the baker appeared
with what seemed to me an extraordinary provision
of bread. I said, "Does he leave the bread for
the whole village with you?" "It is not for me,
madame, it is for the trainards (tramps) who pass
on the road," and she explained that all the
chateaux gave a piece of bread and two sous to
any wayfarer who asked for food. She cut the
bread into good thick slices, and showed me a
wooden bowl on the chimney, filled with two-sous
pieces. While I was there two men appeared at
the big gates, which were always open in the day.
They were strong young fellows carrying their
bundles, and a sort of pitchfork slung over their
shoulders. They looked weary and footsore,
[24]
CHATEAU LIFE
their shoes worn in holes. They asked for some-
thing to drink and some tobacco, didn't care very
much for the water, which was all that Mme.
Antoine had to give them, but thanked her civilly
enough for the bread and sous.
The park wall was a good vantage-ground to see
all (and that wasn't much) that went on on the
highroad. The diligence to Meaux passed twice
a day, with a fine rattle of old wheels and chains,
and cracking of whips. It went down the steep
hill well enough, but coming up was quite another
affair. All the passengers and the driver got out
always, and even then it was difficult to get the
heavy, cumbersome vehicle up the hill, in winter
particularly, when the roads were muddy and
slippery. The driver knew us all well, and was
much interested in all that went on at the chateau.
He often brought parcels, and occasionally people
from the village who wanted to see W. some-
times a blind piano-tuner who came from Villers-
Cotterets. He was very kind to the poor blind
man, helped him down most carefully from the
diligence, and always brought him through the
park gates to the lodge, where he delivered him
over to Antoine. It was curious to see the blind
man at work. Once he had been led through the
rooms, he was quite at home, found the pianos,
fussed over the keys and the strings, exactly as if
[25]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
he saw everything. He tuned all the pianos in the
country, and was much pleased to put his hands
on one that wasn't fifty years old. I had brought
down my new Erard.
/ Sometimes a country wedding passed, and that
was always a pretty sight. A marriage is always
an important affair in France in every class of
life. There are long discussions with all the mem-
bers of the two families. The cure, the notary,
the patron (if the young man is a workman), are
all consulted, and there are as many negotiations
and agreements in the most humble families as in
the grand monde of the Faubourg St. Germain.
Almost all French parents give a dot of some kind
to their children, and whatever the sum is, either
five hundred francs or two thousand, it is always
scrupulously paid over to the notary. The wed-
ding-day is a long one. After the religious cere-
mony in the church, all the wedding party mem-
bers of the two families and a certain number of
friends adjourn to the hotel of the little town for
a breakfast, which is long and most abundant.
Then comes the crowning glory of the day a
country walk along the dusty highroad to some
wood or meadow where they can spend the whole
afternoon. It is pretty to see the little procession
trudging along the bride in all her wedding gar-
ments, white dress, white shoes, wreath, and veil;
[26]
CHATEAU LIFE
the groom in a dress coat, top-hat, white cravat
and waistcoat, with a white ribbon bow on his
sleeve. Almost all the girls and young women are
dressed in white or light colours ; the mothers and
grandmothers (the whole family turns out) in
black with flowers in their bonnets. There is
usually a fiddler walking ahead making most re-
markable sounds on his old cracked instrument,
and the younger members of the party take an
occasional gallop along the road. They are gen-
erally very gay; there is much laughing, and from
time to time a burst of song. It is always a mys-
tery to me how the bride keeps her dress and
petticoat so clean, but she does, with that extraor-
dinary knack all Frenchwomen seem to have of
holding up their skirts. They passed often under
the wall of the chateau, for a favourite resting-
place was in our woods at the entrance of the allee
verte, where it widens out a little; the moss makes
a beautiful soft carpet, and the big trees give per-
fect shade. We heard sounds of merriment one
day when we were passing and we stopped to look
on, from behind the bushes, where we couldn't be
seen. There was quite a party assembled. The
fiddler was playing some sort of country-dance
and all the company, except the very old people,
were dancing and singing, some of the men in-
dulging in most wonderful steps and capers. The
[27]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
children were playing and running under the trees.
One stout man was asleep, stretched out full length
on the side of the road. I fancy his piquette, as
they call the ordinary white wine of the country,
had been too much for him. The bride and groom
were strolling about a little apart from the others,
quite happy and lover-like, his arm around her
waist, she blushing and giggling.
The gendarmes passed also very regularly. They
always stopped and talked, had a drink with
Antoine, and gave all the local news how many
braconniers (poachers) had been caught, how long
they were to stay in prison, how some of the farm-
ers' sheep had disappeared, no one knew how
exactly there were no more robbers. One day
two of them passed, dragging a man between them
who had evidently been struggling and fighting.
His blouse was torn, and there was a great gash
on his face. We were wildly excited, of course.
They told us he was an old sinner, a poacher who
had been in prison various times, but these last
days, not contented with setting traps for the
rabbits, he had set fire to some of the hay-stacks,
and they had been hunting for him for some time.
He looked a rough customer, had an ugly scowl on
his face. One of the little hamlets near the cha-
teau, on the canal, was a perfect nest of poachers,
and I had continual struggles with the keepers
[28]
CHATEAU LIFE
when I gave clothes or blankets to the women and
children. They said some of the women were as
bad as the men, and that I ought not to encourage
them to come up to the house and beg for food
and clothing; that they sold all the little jackets
and petticoats we gave them to the canal hands
(also a bad lot) for brandy. I believe it was true
in some cases, but in the middle of winter, with
snow on the ground (we were hardly warm in
the house with big fires everywhere), I couldn't
send away women with four or five children,
all insufficiently clothed and fed, most of them
in cotton frocks with an old worn knit shawl
around their shoulders, legs and arms bare and
chapped, half frozen. Some of them lived in
caverns or great holes in the rocks, really like
beasts. On the road to La Ferte there was a big
hole (there is no other word for it) in the bank
where a whole family lived. The man was always
in prison for something, and his wife, a tall, gaunt
figure, with wild hair and eyes, spent most of her
time in the woods teaching her boys to set traps
for the game. The cure told us that one of the
children was ill, and that there was literally
nothing in the house, so .1 took one of my cousins
with me, and we climbed up the bank, leaving the
carriage with Hubert, the coachman, expostulating
seriously below. We came to a rickety old door
[29]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
which practically consisted of two rotten planks
nailed together. It was ajar; clouds of black
smoke poured out as we opened it, and it was
some time before we could see anything. We
finally made out a heap of filthy rags in one
corner near a sort of fire made of charred pieces
of black peat. Two children, one a boy about
twelve years old, was lying on the heap of rags,
coughing his heart out. He hardly raised his
head when we came in. Another child, a girl,
some two years younger, was lying beside him,
both of them frightfully thin and white; one saw
nothing but great dark eyes in their faces. The
mother was crouched on the floor close to the chil-
dren. She hardly moved at first, and was really a
terrifying object when ,she got up ; half savage,
scarcely clothed a short petticoat in holes and a
ragged bodice gaping open over her bare skin, no
shoes or stockings; big black eyes set deep in her
head, and a quantity of unkempt black hair. She
looked enormous when she stood up, her head
nearly touching the roof. I didn't feel very com-
fortable, but we were two, and the carriage and
Hubert within call. The woman was civil enough
when she saw I had not come empty-handed. We
took her some soup, bread, and milk. The chil-
dren pounced upon the bread like little wild
animals. The mother didn't touch anything while
[30]
CHATEAU LIFE
we were there said she was glad to have the milk
for the boy. I never saw human beings living in
such utter filth and poverty. A crofter's cottage
in Scotland, or an Irish hovel with the pigs and
children all living together, was a palace compared
to that awful hole. I remonstrated vigorously
with W. and the Mayor of La Ferte for allowing
people to live in that way, like beasts, upon the
highroad, close to a perfectly prosperous country
town. However, they were vagrants, couldn't live
anywhere, for when we passed again, some days
later, there was no one in the hole. The door had
fallen down, there was no smoke coming out, and
the neighbours told us the family had suddenly
disappeared. The authorities then took up the
matter the holes were filled up, and no one was
allowed to live in them. It really was too awful
like the dwellers in caves of primeval days.
We didn't have many visits at the chateau,
though we were so near Paris (only about an hour
and a half by the express), but the old people had
got accustomed to their quiet life, and visitors
would have worried them. Sometimes a Protes-
tant pasteur would come down for two days. We
had a nice visit once from M. de Pressense, father
of the present deputy, one of the most charming,
cultivated men one could imagine. He talked
easily and naturally, using beautiful language.
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
He was most interesting when he told us about
the Commune, and all the horrors of that time in
Paris. He was in the Tuileries when the mob
sacked and burned the palace ; saw the f emmes de
la halle sitting on the brocade and satin sofas,
saying, "C'est nous les princesses maintenant";
saw the entrance of the troops from Versailles, and
the quantity of innocent people shot who were
merely standing looking on at the barricades, hav-
ing never had a gun in their hands. The only
thing I didn't like was his long extempore (to me
familiar) prayers at night. I believe it is a habit
in some old-fashioned French Protestant families
to pray for each member of the family by name.
I thought it was bad enough when he prayed for
the new menage just beginning their married life
(that was us), that they might be spiritually guided
to do their best for each other and their respective
families; but when he proceeded to name some
others of the family who had strayed a little from
the straight and narrow path, hoping they would
be brought to see, by Divine grace, the error of their
ways, I was horrified, and could hardly refrain
from expressing my opinion to the old people.
However, I was learning prudence, and when my
opinion and judgment were diametrically opposed
to those of my new family (which happened often)
I kept them to myself. Sunday was strictly kept.
[32]
CHATEAU LIFE
There was no Protestant church anywhere near.
We had a service in the morning in M. A.'s library.
He read prayers and a short sermon, all the house-
hold appearing, as most of the servants were Swiss
and Protestants. In the afternoon Mme. A. had
all the village children at the chateau. She had a
small organ in one of the rooms in the wing of the
dining-room, taught them hymns and read them
simple little stories. The cure was rather anxious
at first, having his little flock under such a danger-
ous heretic influence, but he very soon realized
what an excellent thing it was for the children, and
both he and the mothers were much disappointed
when anything happened to put off the lesson.
They didn't see much of the cure. He would pay
one formal visit in the course of the year, but there
was never any intimacy.
We lived much for ourselves, and for a few
months in the year it was a rest and change from
Paris, and the busy, agitated life, social and po-
litical, that one always led there. I liked the
space, too, the great high, empty rooms, with no
frivolous little tables and screens or stuff on the
walls, no photograph stands nor fancy vases for
flowers, no bibelot of any kind large, heavy pieces
of furniture which were always found every morn-
ing in exactly the same place. Once or twice, in
later years, I tried to make a few changes, but it
E331
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
was absolutely useless to contend with a wonderful
old servant called Ferdinand, who was over sixty
years old, and had been brought up at the chateau,
had always remained there with the various own-
ers, and who knew every nook and corner of the
house and everything that was in it. It was years
before I succeeded in talking to him. I used to
meet him sometimes on the stairs and corridors,
always running, and carrying two or three pails
and brooms. If he could, he dived into any open
door when he saw me coming, and apparently
never heard me when I spoke, for he never an-
swered. He was a marvellous servant, cleaned the
whole house, opened and shut all the windows
night and morning (almost work enough for one
man), lit the caloriferes, scrubbed and swept and
polished floors from early dawn until ten o'clock,
when we left the salon. He never lived with the
other servants, cooked his own food at his own
hours in his room, and his only companion was a
large black cat, which always followed him about.
He did W.'s service, and W. said that they used
to talk about all sorts of things, but I fancy master
and servant were equally reticent and understood
each other without many words.
I slipped one day on the very slippery wooden
steps leading from W.'s little study to the passage.
Baby did the same, and got a nasty fall on the
[34]
Ferdinand.
CHATEAU LIFE
stone flags, so I asked W. if he would ask Ferdi-
nand to put a strip of carpet on the steps (there
were only four) . W. gave the order, but no carpet
appeared. He repeated it rather curtly. The old
Ferdinand made no answer, but grumbled to him-
self over his broom that it was perfectly foolish
and useless to put down a piece of carpet, that for
sixty years people and children, and babies, had
walked down those steps and no one had ever
thought of asking for carpets. W. had really
rather to apologize and explain that his wife was
nervous and unused to such highly polished floors.
However, we became great friends afterward, Fer-
dinand and I, and when he understood how fond
I was of the chateau, he didn't mind my deranging
the furniture a little. Two grand pianos were a
great trial to him. I think he would have liked
to put one on top of the other.
The library, quite at one end of the house,
separated from the drawing-room we always sat
in by a second large salon, was a delightful, quiet
resort when any one wanted to read or write. There
were quantities of books, French, English, and
German the classics in all three languages, and a
fine collection of historical memoirs.
II
COUNTRY VISITS
TT7E didn't pay many visits; but sometimes,
* * when the weather was fine and there was
no hunting, and W. gone upon an expedition to
some outlying village, Mme. A. and I would start
off for one of the neighbouring chateaux. We
went one day to the chateau de C., where there was
a large family party assembled, four generations
the old grandmother, her son and daughter, both
married, the daughter's daughter, also married,
and her children. It was a pretty drive, about an
hour all through the forest. The house is quite
modern, not at all pretty, a square white building,
with very few trees near it, the lawn and one or
two flower-beds not particularly well kept. The
grounds ran straight down to the Villers-Cotterets
forest, where M. M. has good shooting. The gates
were open, the concierge said the ladies were there.
(They didn't have to be summoned by a bell.
That is one of the habits of this part of the country.
There is almost always a large bell at the stable
[36]
COUNTRY VISITS
or "communs," and when visitors arrive and the
family are out in the grounds, not too far off, they
are summoned by the bell. I was quite surprised
one day at Bourneville, when we were in the woods
at some little distance from the chateau, when we
heard the bell, and my companion, a niece of
Mme. A., instantly turned back, saying, "That
means there are visits; we must go back.") We
found all the ladies sitting working in a corner
salon with big windows opening on the park.
The old grandmother was knitting, but she was
so straight and slight, with bright black eyes, that
it wouldn't have seemed at all strange to see her
bending over an embroidery frame like all the
others. The other three ladies were each seated
at an embroidery frame in the embrasures of the
windows. I was much impressed, particularly
with the large pieces of work that they were under-
taking, a portiere, covers for the billiard-table, bed,
etc. It quite recalled what one had always read
of feudal France, when the seigneur would be off
with his retainers hunting or fighting, and the
chatelaine, left alone in the chateau, spent her
time in her "bower" surrounded by her maidens,
all working at the wonderful tapestries one sees
still in some of the old churches and convents. I
was never much given to work, but I made a
mental resolve that I, too, would set up a frame
[37]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
in one of the drawing-rooms at home, and had
visions of yards of pale-blue satin, all covered with
wonderful flowers and animals, unrolling them-
selves under my skilful fingers but I must con-
fess that it remained a vision. I never got further
than little crochet petticoats, which clothed every
child in the village. To make the picture com-
plete there should have been a page in velvet cap
and doublet, stretched on the floor at the feet of
his mistress, trying to distract her with songs and
ballads. The master of the house, M. M., was
there, having come in from shooting. He had
been reading aloud to the ladies Alfred de Musset,
I think. That part of the picture I could never
realize, as there is nothing W. loathes like reading
aloud except, perhaps, being read to.
They were very friendly and easy, showed us the
downstairs part of the house, and gave us gouter,
not tea, wine and cake. The house looked com-
fortable enough, nothing picturesque; a large
square hall with horns, whips, foxes' brushes, ant-
lers, and all sorts of trophies of the chase on the
walls. They are sporting people; all ride. The
dining-room, a large bright room, was panelled
with life-size portraits of the family: M. and Mme.
M. in hunting dress, green coats, tricorne hats, on
their horses ; the daughter of the house and one of
her brothers, rowing in a boat on a small lake;
138]
-
Merci, je vais bien."
COUNTRY VISITS
the eldest son in shooting dress, corduroys, his gun
slung over his shoulder, his dog by his side. They
were all very like.
We strolled about the garden a little, and saw
lots of pheasants walking peacefully about at the
edge of the woods. They made me promise to
come back one day with W., he to shoot and I to
walk about with the ladies. We saw the children
of the fourth generation, and left with the impres-
sion of a happy, simple family party. M. M. was
a conseiller general of the Aisne and a colleague of
W.'s. They always stayed at the same hotel (de
la Hure) in Laon at the time of the conseil general,
and M. M. was much amused at first with W.'s
baggage: a large bath-tub, towels (for in small
French provincial hotels towels were microscopic
and few in number), and a package of tea, which
was almost an unknown commodity in those days.
None of our visitors ever took any, and always
excused themselves with the same phrase, "Merci,
je vais bien," evidently looking upon it as some
strange and hurtful medicine. That has all
changed, like everything else. Now one finds tea
not only at all the chateaux, with brioches and
toast, but even in all the hotels, but I wouldn't
guarantee what we get there as ever having seen
China or Ceylon, and it is still wiser to take
chocolate or coffee, which is almost always good.
[39]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
We had a lovely drive back. The forest was
beautiful in the waning light. As usual, we didn't
meet any vehicle of any kind, and were quite ex-
cited when we saw a carriage approaching in the
distance however, it proved to be W. in his dog-
cart. We passed through one or two little villages
quite lost in the forest always the same thing,
one long, straggling street, with nobody in it, a
large farm at one end and very often the church
at the other. As it was late, the farm gates were
all open, the cattle inside, teams of white oxen
drinking out of a large trough.
In a large farm near Boursonne there was much
animation and conversation. All the beasts were
in, oxen, cows, horses, chickens, and in one corner,
a flock of geese. The poor little "goose girl," a
child about ten years old with bright-blue eyes and
a pig-tail like straw hanging down her back, was
being scolded violently by the farmer's wife, who
was presiding in person over the rentree of the
animals, for having brought her geese home on a
run. They wouldn't eat, and would certainly all
be ill, and probably die before morning. There is
a pretty little old chateau at Boursonne; the park,
however, so shut in by high walls that one sees
nothing in passing. W. had shot there once or
twice in former years, but it has changed hands
very often.
[40]
COUNTRY VISITS
Sometimes we paid more humble visits, not to
chateaux, but to the principal people of the little
country town near, from which we had all our
provisions. We went to see the doctor's wife, the
notary's wife, the mayor's wife, and the two schools
the asile or infant school, and the more im-
portant school for bigger girls. The old doctor'
was quite a character, had been for years in the
country, knew everybody and everybody's private
history. He was the doctor of the chateau, by
the year, attended to everybody, masters and
servants, and received a regular salary, like a sec-
retary. He didn't come very often for us in his
medical capacity, but he often dropped in at the
end of the day to have a talk with W. The first
time I saw him W. presented him to me, as un bon
ami de la famille. I naturally put out my hand,
which so astonished and disconcerted him (he
barely touched the tips of my fingers) that I was
rather bewildered. W. explained after he had
gone that in that class of life in France they never
shook hands with a lady, and that the poor man
was very much embarrassed. He was very useful
to W. as a political agent, as he was kind to the
poor people and took small (or no) fees. They
all loved him, and talked to him quite freely. His
women-kind were Very shy and provincial. I
think our visits were a great trial to them. They
[41]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
always returned them most punctiliously, and came
in all their best clothes. When we went to see
v them we generally found them in short black
skirts, and when they were no longer very young,
with black caps, but they always had handsome
silk dresses, velvet cloaks, and hats with flowers
and feathers when they came to see us. Some of
them took the cup of tea we offered, but they
didn't know what to do with it, and sat on the edge
of their chairs, looking quite miserable until we
relieved them of the burden of the tea-cup. Mme.
A. was rather against the tea-table; she preferred
the old-fashioned tray handed around with wine
and cakes, but I persuaded her to try, and after a
little while she acknowledged that it was better
to have the tea-table brought in. It made a di-
version ; I got up to make the tea. Someone gave
me a chair, someone else handed the cups. It
made a little movement, and was not so stiff as
when we all sat for over an hour on the same chairs
making conversation. It is terrible to have to
make conversation, and extraordinary how little
one finds to say. We had always talked easily
enough at home, but then things came more natu-
rally, and even the violent family discussions were
amusing, but my recollection of these French pro-
vincial visits is something awful. Everybody so
polite, so stiff, and the long pauses when nobody
[42]
;
Long pauses when nobody seemed to h.ive anything to say.
COUNTRY VISITS
seemed to have anything to say. I of course was
a novelty and a foreign element they didn't quite
know what to do with me. Even to Mme. A., and
I grew very fond of her, and she was invariably
charming to me, I was something different. We
had many talks on every possible subject during
our long drives, and also in the winter afternoons.
At first I had my tea always upstairs in my own
little salon, which I loved with the curtains drawn,
a bright wood-fire burning, and all my books about;
but when I found that she sat alone in the big
drawing-room, not able to occupy herself in any
way, I asked her if I might order my tea there,
and there were very few afternoons that I didn't
sit with her when I was at home. She talked
often about her early married life winters in
Cannes and in Paris, where they received a great
deal, principally Protestants, and I fancy she
sometimes regretted the interchange of ideas and
the brilliant conversation she had been accustomed
to, but she never said it. She was never tired of
hearing about my early days in America our
family life the extraordinary liberty of the young
people, etc. We often talked over the religious
question, and though we were both Protestants,
we were as far apart almost as if one was a pagan.
Protestantism in France always has seemed to me
such a rigid form of worship, so little calculated
[43]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
to influence young people or draw them to church.
The plain, bare churches with white-washed walls,
the long sermons and extempore prayers, speaking
so much of the anger of God and the terrible
punishments awaiting the sinner, the trials and
sorrows that must come to all. I often think of
a sermon I heard preached in one Protestant
church, to the boys and girls who were making
their first communion all little things, the girls
in their white frocks and long white veils, the
boys with white waistcoats and white ribbons on
their arms, making such a pretty group as they
sat on the front benches listening hard to all
the preacher said. I wondered that the young,
earnest faces didn't suggest something to him be-
sides the horrors of eternal punishment, the wicked-
ness and temptations of the world they were going
to face, but his only idea seemed to be that he
must warn them of all the snares and temptations
that were going to beset their paths. Mme. A.
couldn't understand my ideas when I said I loved
the Episcopal service the prayers and litany I
had always heard, the Easter and Christmas
hymns I had always sung, the carols, the anthems,
the great organ, the flowers at Easter, the greens
at Christmas. All that seemed to her to be a
false sentiment appealing to the senses and im-
agination. "But if it brings people to church, and
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COUNTRY VISITS
the beautiful music elevates them and raises their
thoughts to higher things " "That is not re-
ligion; real religion means the prayer of St. Chry-
sostom, * Where two or three are gathered together
in My name I will grant their requests." "That
is very well for really religious, strong people who
think out their religion and don't care for any out-
ward expression of it, but for weaker souls who
want to be helped, and who are helped by the
beautiful music and the familiar prayers, surely it
is better to give them something that brings them
to church and makes them better men and women
than to frighten them away with such strict, un-
compromising doctrines " "No, that is only
sentiment, not real religious feeling." I don't
think we ever understood each other any better
on that subject, and we discussed it so often.
Mme. A., with whom I made my round of calls
at the neighbouring chateaux, was a charming
companion. She had lived a great deal in Paris,
in the Protestant coterie, which was very intel-
lectual and cultivated. The salons of the Duchesse
de Broglie, Mmes. de Stael, d'Haussonville, Guizot,
were most interesting and recherches, very ex-
clusive and very serious, but a centre for all po-
litical and literary talk. I have often heard my
husband say some of the best talkers in society
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
s'etaient formes dans ces salons, where, as young
men, they listened modestly to all the brilliant con-
versation going on around them.
It was an exception when we found anyone at
home when we called in the neighbourhood, and
when we did, it was evident that afternoon visits
were a rarity. We did get in one cold November
afternoon, and our visit was a sample of many
others that we paid.
The door was opened by a footman struggling
into his coat, with a handful of faggots in his arms.
He ushered us through several bare, stiff, cold
rooms (proportions handsome enough) to a smaller
salon, which the family usually occupied. Then
he lighted a fire (which consisted principally of
smoke) and went to summon his mistress. The
living-room was just as bare and stiff as the others,
no trace of anything that looked like habitation or
what we should consider comfort no books nor
work nor flowers (that, however, is comparatively
recent in France). I remember quite well Mme.
Casimir-Perier telling me that when she went with
her husband to St. Petersburg about fifty years
ago, one of the things that struck her most in the
Russian salons, was the quantity of green plants and
cut flowers she had never seen them in France.
There were often fine pictures, tapestries, and
furniture, all the chairs in a row against the wall.
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COUNTRY VISITS
Our visits were always long, as most of the
chateaux were at a certain distance, and we were
obliged to stay an hour and a half, sometimes
longer, to rest the horses. It was before the days
of five-o'clock tea. A tray was brought in with
sweet wine (Malaga or Vin de Chypre) and cakes
(ladies'-fingers) which evidently had figured often
before on similar occasions. Conversation lan-
guished sometimes, though Mme. A. was wonder-
ful, talking so easily about everything. In the
smaller places, when people rarely went to Paris,
it ran always in the same grooves the woods, the
hunting (very good in the Villers-Cotterets forest),
the schoolmaster (so difficult to get proper books for
the children to read), the cure, and all local gossip,
and as much about the iniquities of the republic as
could be said before the wife of a republican sen-
ator. Wherever we went, even to the largest cha-
teaux, where the family went to Paris for the
season, the talk was almost entirely confined to
France and French interests. Books, politics,
music, people, nothing existed apparently au-dela
des frontieres. America was an unknown quan-
tity. It was strange to see intelligent people living
in the world so curiously indifferent as to what
went on in other countries. At first I used to talk
a little about America and Rome, where I had
lived many years and at such an interesting time
[47]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
the last days of Pio Nono and the transformation
of the old superstitious papal Rome to the capital
of young Italy but I soon realized that it didn't
interest any one, and by degrees I learned to talk
like all the rest.
I often think of one visit to a charming little
Louis XV chateau standing quite on the edge of
the forest just room enough for the house, and the
little hamlet at the gates; a magnificent view of
the forest, quite close to the lawn behind the cha-
teau, and then sweeping off, a dark-blue mass, as
far as one could see. We were shown into a large,
high room, no carpet, no fire, some fine portraits,
very little furniture, all close against the wall, a
round table in the middle with something on it, I
couldn't make out what at first. Neither books,
reviews, nor even a photographic album the
supreme resource of provincial salons. When we
got up to take leave I managed to get near the
table, and the ornament was a large white plate
with a piece of fly-paper on it. The mistress of
the house was shy and uncomfortable; sent at
once for her husband, and withdrew from the con-
versation as soon as he appeared, leaving him to
make all the "frais." We walked a little around the
park before leaving. It was really a lovely little
place, with its background of forest and the quiet,
sleepy little village in front; very lonely and far
T481
COUNTRY VISITS
from everything, but with a certain charm of its
own. Two or three dogs were playing in the court-
yard, and one curious little animal who made a
rush at the strangers. I was rather taken aback,
particularly when the master of the house told me
not to be afraid, it was only a marcassin (small
wild boar), who had been born on the place, and
was as quiet as a kitten. I did not think the great
tusks and square, shaggy head looked very pleas-
ant, but the little thing was quiet enough, came
and rubbed itself against its master's legs and
played quite happily with the dogs. We heard
afterward that they were obliged to kill it. It grew
fierce and unmanageable, and no one would come
near the place.
I took Henrietta with me sometimes when I had
a distant visit to pay; an hour and a half's drive
alone on a country road where you never meet
anything was rather dull. We went one cold
December afternoon to call upon Mme. B., the
widow of an old friend and colleague of W.'s. We
were in the open carriage, well wrapped up, and
enjoyed the drive immensely. The country looked
beautiful in the bright winter sunshine, the distant
forest always in a blue mist, the trees with their
branches white with "givre" (hoarfrost), and
patches of snow and ice all over the fields.
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
For a wonder we didn't go through the forest
drove straight away from it and had charming ef-
fects of colour upon some of the thatched cottages
in the villages we passed through ; one or two had
been mended recently and the mixture of old brown,
bright red and glistening white was quite lovely.
We went almost entirely along the great plains,
occasionally small bits of wood and very fair hills
as we got near our destination. The villages
always very scattered and almost deserted when
it is cold everybody stays indoors and of course
there is no work to be done on the farms when the
ground is hard frozen. It is a difficult question to
know what to do with the men of all the small
hamlets when the real winter sets in ; the big farms
turn off many of their labourers, and as it is a
purely agricultural country all around us there is
literally nothing to do. My husband and several
of the owners of large estates gave work to many
with their regular "coupe" of wood, but that only
lasts a short time, and the men who are willing to
work but can find nothing drift naturally into cafes
and billiard saloons, where they read cheap bad
papers and talk politics of the wildest description.
We found our chateau very well situated on the
top of a hill, a good avenue leading up to the gate,
a pretty little park with fine trees at the back, the
tower of the village church just visible through the
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COUNTRY VISITS
trees at the end of the central alley. It was hardly
a chateau half manor, half farm. We drove into
a large courtyard, or rather farmyard, quite de-
serted; no one visible anywhere; the door of the
house was open, but there was no bell nor appar-
ently any means of communicating with any one.
Hubert cracked his whip noisily several times
without any result and we were just wondering
what we should do (perhaps put our cards under a
stone on the steps) when a man appeared, said
Mme. B. was at home, but she was in the stable
looking after a sick cow he would go and tell her
we were there. In a few minutes she appeared
attired in a short, rusty-black skirt, sabots on her
feet, and a black woollen shawl over her head and
shoulders. She seemed quite pleased to see us
was not at all put out at being caught in such very
simple attire begged us to come in and ushered
us through a long, narrow hall and several cold,
comfortless rooms, the shutters not open and no
fire anywhere, into her bedroom. All the furniture
chairs, tables and bed was covered with linen.
She explained that it was her "lessive" (general
wash) she had just made, that all the linen was
dry, but she had not had time to put it away. She
called a maid and they cleared off two chairs
she sat on the bed.
It was frightfully cold we were thankful we
[51]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
had kept our wraps on. She said she supposed
we would like a fire after our long, cold drive, and
rang for a man to bring some wood. He (in his
shirt sleeves) appeared with two or three logs of
wood and was preparing to make a fire with them
all, but she stopped him, said one log was enough,
the ladies were not going to stay long so, natu-
rally, we had no fire and clouds of smoke. She was
very talkative, never stopped told us all about her
servants, her husband's political campaigns and how
W. would never have been named to the Conseil
General if M. B. hadn't done all his work for him.
She asked a great many questions, answering them
all herself; then said, " I don't offer you any tea, as I
know you always go back to have your tea at home,
and I am quite sure you don't want any wine."
There was such an evident reluctance to give us
anything that I didn't like to insist, and said we
must really be going as we had a long drive before
us, though I should have liked something hot;
tea, of course, she knew nothing about, but even a
glass of ordinary hot wine, which they make very
well in France, would have been acceptable.
Henrietta was furious; she was shivering with
cold, her eyes smarting with the smoke, and not
at all interested in M. B.'s political career, or
Madame's servants, and said she would have been
thankful to have even a glass of vin de Chypre.
COUNTRY VISITS
It was unfortunate, perhaps, that we had arrived
during the "lessive"; that is always a most im-
portant function in France. In almost all the big
houses in the country (small ones, too) that is the
way they do their washing; once a month or once
every three months, according to the size of the
establishment, the whole washing of the household
is done; all the linen: master's, servants', guests';
house is turned out; the linen closets cleaned and
aired! Every one looks busy and energetic. It is
quite a long affair lasts three or four days. I
often went to see the performance when we made
our "lessive" at the chateau every month.
It always interested our English and American
friends, as the washing is never done in that way
in either of their countries. It was very conven-
ient at our place as we had plenty of room. The
"lavoir" stood at the top of the steps leading into
the kitchen gardens; there was a large, square
tank sunk in the ground, so that the women could
kneel to their work, then a little higher another of
beautiful clear water, all under cover. Just across
the path there was a small house with a blazing
wood fire; in the middle an enormous tub where
all the linen was passed through wood ashes.
There were four " lessiveuses " (washerwomen),
sturdy peasant women with very short skirts,
sabots, and turbans (made of blue and white
[53]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
checked calico) on their heads, their strong red
arms bared above the elbow. The Mere Michon,
the eldest of the four, directed everything and kept
them well at work, allowed very little talking ; they
generally chatter when they are washing and very
often quarrel. When they are washing at the
public "lavoir" in the village one hears their shrill
voices from a great distance. Our "lingere,"
Mme. Hubert, superintended the whole operation;
she was very keen about it and remonstrated
vigorously when they slapped the linen too hard
sometimes with the little flat sticks, like spades,
they use. The linen all came out beautifully white
and smooth, hadn't the yellow look that all city-
washed clothes have.
I think Mme. B. was very glad to get rid of us,
and to begin folding her linen and putting it back
in the big wooden wardrobes, that one sees every-
where in France. Some of the old Norman ward-
robes, with handsome brass locks and beautifully
carved doors, are real works of art very difficult to
get and very expensive. Fifty years ago the peasant
did not understand the value of such a "meuble"
and parted with it easily but now, with railways
everywhere and strangers and bric-a-brac people
always on the lookout for a really old piece of
furniture, they understand quite well that they pos-
sess a treasure and exact its full value.
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COUNTRY VISITS
Our drive back was rather shorter, downhill
almost all the way, the horses going along at a
good steady trot, knowing they were going home.
When we drew up at our own door Hubert re-
marked respectfully that he thought it was the first
time that Madame and Mademoiselle had ever
been received by a lady in sabots.
We wondered afterward if she had personally
attended to the cow in the way of poulticing or
rubbing it. She certainly didn't wash her hands
afterward, and it rather reminded me of one of
Charles de Bunsen's stories when he was Secretary
of Legation at Turin. In the summer they took
a villa in the country just out of the town and had
frequent visitors to lunch or dinner. One day two
of their friends, Italians, had spent the whole day
with them; had walked in the garden, picked fruit
and flowers, played with the child and the dogs
and the pony, and as they were coming back to the
house for dinner, Charles suggested that they
might like to come up to his dressing-room and
wash their hands before dinner to which one of
them replied, "Grazie, non mi sporco facilmente"
(literal translation, "Thanks, I don't dirty myself
easily"), and declined the offer of soap and water.
We paid two or three visits one year to the
neighbouring chateaux, and had one very pleasant
[55]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
afternoon at the Chateau de Pinon, belonging to
the Courval family. W. had known the late pro-
prietor, the Vicomte de Courval, very well. They
had been colleagues of the Conseil General of the
Aisne, were both very fond of the country and
country life, and used to have long talks in the
evening, when the work of the day was over, about
plantation, cutting down trees, preservation of
game, etc. Without these talks, I think W. would
have found the evenings at the primitive little
Hotel de la Hure, at Laon, rather tedious.
The chateau is not very old and has no historic
interest. It was built by a Monsieur du Bois,
Vicomte de Courval, at the end of the seventeenth
century. He lived at first in the old feudal chateau
of which nothing now remains. Already times
were changing the thick walls, massive towers,
high, narrow windows, almost slits, and deep moat,
which were necessary in the old troubled days,
when all isolated chateaux might be called upon,
at any time, to defend themselves from sudden at-
tack, had given way to the larger and more spa-
cious residences of which Mansard, the famous
architect of Louis XIV, has left so many chefs
d'ceuvre. It was to Mansard that M. de Courval
confided the task of building the chateau as it now
stands, while the no less famous Le Notre was
charged to lay out the park and gardens.
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COUNTRY VISITS
It was an easy journey from B ville to Pinon.
An hour's drive through our beautiful forest of
Villers-Cotterets and another hour in the train.
We stopped at the little station of Anizy just out-
side the gates of the park; a brougham was wait-
ing for us and a very short drive through a stately
avenue brought us to the drawbridge and the iron
gates of the " Cour d'honneur." The house looked
imposing; I had an impression of a very high and
very long fa9ade with two towers stretching out
into the court-yard, which is very large, with fine
old trees and broad parterres of bright-coloured
flowers on either side of the steps. There was a
wide moat of running water, the banks covered
with shrubs and flowers the flowers were prin-
cipally salvias and chrysanthemums, as it was late
in the season, but they made a warm bit of colour.
The house stands low, as do all houses surrounded
by a moat, but the park rises a little directly be-
hind it and there is a fine background of wood.
We drew up at a flight of broad, shallow steps;
the doors were open. There were three or four
footmen in the ante-room. While we were taking
off our wraps Mme. de Courval appeared; she
was short, stout, dressed in black, with that ter-
rible black cap which all widows wear in France
so different from the white cap and soft white
muslin collar and cuffs we are accustomed to.
[57]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
She had a charming, easy manner and looked very
intelligent and capable. It seems she managed
the property extremely well, made the tour of the
house, woods and garden every day with her
"regisseur." W. had the highest opinion of her
business capacity said she knew the exact market
value of everything on the place from an old tree
that must be cut down for timber to the cheeses
the farmer's wife made and sold at the Soissons
market.
She suggested that I should come upstairs to
leave my heavy coat. We went up a broad stone
staircase, the walls covered with pictures and en-
gravings; one beautiful portrait of her daughter,
the Marquise de Chaponay, on horseback. There
were handsome carved chests and china vases on
the landing, which opened on a splendid long
gallery, very high and light bedrooms on one side,
on the other big windows (ten or twelve, I should
think) looking over the park and gardens. She
took me to a large, comfortable room, bright wood
fire blazing, and a pretty little dressing-room open-
ing out of it, furnished in a gay, old-fashioned pat-
tern of chintz. She said breakfast would be ready
in ten minutes supposed I could find my way
down, and left me to my own devices.
I found the family assembled in the drawing-
room; four women: Mme. de Courval and her
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COUNTRY VISITS
daughter, the Marquise de Chaponay, a tall hand-
some woman, and two other ladies of a certain age ;
I did not catch their names, but they looked like
all the old ladies one always sees in a country house
in France. I should think they were cousins or
habituees of the chateau, as they each had their
embroidery frame and one a little dog. I am
haunted by the embroidery frames I am sure I
shall end my days in a black cap, bending over a
frame making portieres or a piano-cover.
We breakfasted in a large square dining-room
running straight through the house, windows on
each side. The room was all in wood panelling
light gray the sun streaming in through the win-
dows. Mme. de Courval put W. on her right, me
on her other side. We had an excellent breakfast,
which we appreciated after our early start. There
was handsome old silver on the table and side-
board, which is a rare thing in France, as almost
all the silver was melted during the Revolution.
Both Mme. de Courval and her daughter were very
easy and animated. The Marquise de Chaponay
told me she had known W. for years, that in the
old days before he became such a busy man and
so engrossed in politics he used to read Alfred de
Musset to her, in her atelier, while she painted.
She supposed he read now to me which he cer-
tainly never did as he always told me he hated
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
reading aloud. They talked politics, of course,
but their opinions were the classic Faubourg St.
Germain opinions: "A Republic totally unfitted
for France and the French" "none of the gentle-
men in France really Republican at heart" (with
evidently a few exceptions) W.'s English blood
and education having, of course, influenced him.
As soon as breakfast was over one of the win-
dows on the side of the moat was opened and we
all gave bread to the carp, handed to us by the
butler small square pieces of bread in a straw
basket. It was funny to see the fish appear as
soon as the window was opened some of them
were enormous and very old. It seems they live
to a great age; a guardian of the Palace at Fon-
tainebleau always shows one to tourists, who is
supposed to have been fed by the Emperor Na- t<
poleon. Those of Pinon knew all about it, lifting
their brown heads out of the water and never
missing their piece of bread.
We went back to the drawing-room for coffee,
passing through the billiard room, where there are
some good pictures. A fine life-size portrait of
General Moreau (father of Mme. de Courval) in
uniform, by Gerard near it a trophy of four flags
Austrian, Saxon, Bavarian, and Hungarian-
taken by the General; over the trophy three or four
"lames d'honneur" (presentation swords) with
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COUNTRY VISITS
name and inscription. There are also some pretty
women's portraits in pastel very delicate colours
in old-fashioned oval frames quite charming.
The drawing-room was a very handsome room
also panelled in light gray carved wood ; the furni-
ture rather heavy and massive, curtains and cover-
ings of thick, bright flowered velvet, but it looked
suitable in that high old-fashioned room light
modern furniture would have been out of place.
As soon as we had finished our coffee we went
for a walk not the two old ladies, who settled
down at once to their embroidery frames; one of
them showed me her work really quite beautiful
a church ornament of some kind, a painted
Madonna on a ground of white satin; she was
covering the whole ground with heavy gold em-
broidery, so thick it looked like mosaic.
The park is splendid, a real domain, all the
paths and alleys beautifully kept and every de-
scription of tree M. de Courval was always trying
experiments with foreign trees and shrubs and
apparently most successfully. I think the park
would have been charming in its natural state, as
there was a pretty little river running through the
grounds and some tangles of bushes and rocks that
looked quite wild it might have been in the middle
of the forest but everything had been done to assist
nature. There were a "piece d'eau," cascades, lit-
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
tie bridges thrown over the river in picturesque
spots, and on the highest point a tower (donjon),
which was most effective, looked quite the old
feudal towers of which so few remain now. They
were used- as watch towers, as a sentinel posted on
the top could see a great distance over the plains
and give warning of the approach of the enemy.
As the day was fine no mist we had a beautiful
view from the top, seeing plainly the great round
tower of Coucy, the finest ruin in France the
others made out quite well the towers of the Laon
Cathedral, but those I couldn't distinguish, seeing
merely a dark spot on the horizon which might
have been a passing cloud.
Coming back we crossed the "Alice des Soupirs,"
which has its legend like so many others in this
country: It was called the "Alice des Soupirs" on
account of the tragedy that took place there. The
owner of the chateau at that time a Comte de
Lamothe discovered his wife on too intimate
terms with his great friend and her cousin; they
fought in the Allee, and the Comte de Lamothe
was killed by his friend. The widow tried to
brave it out and lived on for some time at the
chateau; but she was accursed and an evil spell
on the place everything went wrong and the
chateau finally burnt down. The place was then
sold to the de Courval family.
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COUNTRY VISITS
At the end of an hour the Marquise had had
enough; I should not think she was much of a
walker; she was struggling along in high-heeled
shoes and proposed that she and I should return
to the house and she would show me her atelier.
W. and Mme. de Courval continued their tour of
inspection which was to finish at the Home Farm,
where she wanted to show him some small Breton
cows which had just arrived. The atelier was a
charming room; panelled like all the others in a
light grey wood. One hardly saw the walls, for
they were covered with pictures, engravings and a
profusion of mirrors in gilt oval frames. It was
evidently a favourite haunt of the Marquise's:
books, papers and painting materials scattered
about; the piano open and quantities of music on
the music-stand; miniatures, snuff-boxes and little
old-fashioned bibelots on all the tables, and an
embroidery frame, of course, in one of the win-
dows, near it a basket filled with bright coloured
silks. The miniatures were, almost all, portraits
of de Courvals of every age and in every pos-
sible costume: shepherdesses, court ladies of the
time of Louis XV, La Belle Ferronniere with the
jewel on her forehead, men in armour with fine,
strongly marked faces; they must have been a
handsome race. It is a pity there is no son to
carry on the name. One daughter-in-law had no
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
children; the other one, born an American, Mary
Ray of New York, had only one daughter, the
present Princesse de Poix, to whom Pinon now
belongs.
We played a little; four hands the classics, of
course. All French women of that generation who
played at all were brought up on strictly classical
music. She had a pretty, delicate, old-fashioned
touch; her playing reminded me of Madame A.'s.
When it was too dark to see any more we sat
by the fire and talked till the others came in. She
asked a great deal about my new life in Paris-
feared I would find it stiff and dull after the easy
happy family life I had been accustomed to. I
said it was very different, of course, but there was
much that was interesting, only I did not know
the people well enough yet to appreciate the stories
they were always telling about each other, also
that I had made several "gaffes" quite innocently.
I told her one which amused her very much,
though she could not imagine how I ever could have
said it. It was the first year of my marriage; we
were dining in an Orleanist house, almost all the
company Royalists and intimate friends of the
Orleans Princes, and three or four moderate, very
moderate Republicans like us. It was the 20th of
January and the women were all talking about a
ball they were going to the next night, 21st of
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COUNTRY VISITS
January (anniversary of the death of Louis XVI).
They supposed they must wear mourning such a
bore. Still, on account of the Comtesse de Paris
and the Orleans family generally, they thought
they must do it upon which I asked, really very
much astonished: "On account of the Orleans
family? but did not the Due d'Orleans vote the
King's execution?" There was an awful silence
and then M. Leon Say, one of the cleverest and
most delightful men of his time, remarked, with a
twinkle in his eye: "Ma foi; je crois que Mme.
Waddington a raison." There was a sort of ner-
vous laugh and the conversation was changed.
W. was much annoyed with me, "a foreigner so
recently married, throwing down the gauntlet in
that way." I assured him I had no purpose of any
kind I merely said what I thought, which is
evidently unwise.
Mme. de Chaponay said she was afraid I would
find it very difficult sometimes. French people-
in society at least were so excited against the
Republic, anti-religious feeling, etc. "It must be
very painful for you." "I don't think so; you see
I am American, Republican and a Protestant; my
point of view must be very different from that of a
Frenchwoman and a Catholic." She was very
charming, however; intelligent, cultivated, speak-
ing beautiful French with a pretty carefully trained
[65]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
voice English just as well; we spoke the two
languages going from one to the other without
knowing why. I was quite sorry when we were
summoned to tea. The room looked so pretty in the
twilight, the light from the fire danced all over the
pictures and gilt frames of the mirrors, leaving
the corners quite in shadow. The curtains were
not drawn and we saw the darkness creeping up
over the lawn; quite at the edge of the wood the
band of white mist was rising, which we love to
see in our part of the country, as it always means a
fine day for the morrow.
We had a cheery tea. W. and Mme. de Courval
had made a long "tournee," and W. quite ap-
proved of all the changes and new acquisitions she
had made, particularly the little Breton cows. We
left rather hurriedly as we had just time to catch
our train.
Our last glimpse of the chateau as we looked
back from the turn in the avenue was charming;
there were lights in almost all the windows, which
were reflected in the moat; the moon was rising
over the woods at the back, and every tower and
cornice of the enormous pile stood out sharply in
the cold clear light.
We didn't move often once we were settled in
the chateau for the autumn. It was very difficult
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COUNTRY VISITS
to get W. away from his books and coins and his
woods; but occasionally a shooting party tempted
him. We went sometimes, about the Toussaint
when the leaves were nearly fallen, to stay with
friends who had a fine chateau and estate about
three hours by rail from Paris, in the midst of the
great plains of the Aube. The first time we went,
soon after my marriage, I was rather doubtful as to
how I should like it. I had never stayed in a
French country house and imagined it would be
very stiff and formal; however, the invitation was
for three days two days of shooting and one of
rest and I thought that I could get through with-
out being too homesick.
We arrived about 4.30 for tea; the journey from
Paris was through just the same uninteresting
country one always sees when leaving by the Gare
de 1'Est. I think it is the ugliest sortie of all Paris.
As we got near the chateau the Seine appeared,
winding in and out of the meadows in very leisurely
fashion. We just saw the house from the train,
standing rather low. The station is at the park
gates in fact, the railway and the canal run
through the property. Two carriages were wait-
ing (we were not the only guests), and a covered
cart for the maids and baggage. A short drive
through a fine avenue of big trees skirting broad
lawns brought us to the house, which looked very
[67]
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imposing with its long faade and rows of lighted
windows. We drove through arcades covered with
ivy into a very large court-yard, the chateau stables
and communs taking three sides. There was a
piece d'eau at one end, a colombier at the other.
There was no perron or stately entrance; in one
corner a covered porch, rather like what one sees
in England, shut in with glass door and windows
and filled with plants, a good many chrysanthe-
mums, which made a great mass of colour. The
hall doors were wide open as the carriage drove
up. Monsieur A. and his wife waiting for us
just inside, Mme. A. his mother, the mistress
of the chateau, at the door of the salon. We went
into a large, high hall, well lighted, a bright fire
burning, plenty of servants. It looked most
cheerful and comfortable on a dark November
afternoon. We left our wraps in the hall, and
went straight into the drawing-room. I have been
there so often since that I hardly remember my
first impression. It was a corner room, high ceil-
ing, big windows, and fine tapestries on the walls;
some of them with a pink ground (very unusual),
and much envied and admired by all art collectors.
Mme. A. told me she found them all rolled up
in a bundle in the garret when she married. A
tea-table was standing before the sofa, and various
people working and having their tea. We were
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not a large party Comte and Comtesse de B.
(she a daughter of the house) and three or four
men, deputies and senators, all political. They
counted eight guns. We sat there about half an
hour, then there was a general move, and young
Mme. A. showed us our rooms, which were
most comfortable, fires burning, lamps lighted.
She told us dinner was at 7.30; the first bell would
ring at seven. I was the only lady besides the
family. I told my maid to ask some of the others
what their mistresses were going to wear. She
said ordinary evening dress, with natural flowers
in their hair, and that I would receive a small
bouquet, which I did, only as I never wear any-
thing in my hair, I put them on my corsage, which
did just as well.
The dinner was pleasant, the dining-room a
fine, large hall (had been stables) with a fireplace
at each end, and big windows giving on the court-
yard. It was so large that the dinner table (we
were fourteen) seemed lost in space. The talk
was almost exclusively political and amusing
enough. All the men were, or had been, deputies,
and every possible question was discussed. Mme.
A. was charming, very intelligent, and ani-
mated, having lived all her life with clever people,
and having taken part in all the changes that
France has gone through in the last fifty years.
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
She had been a widow for about two years when I
first stayed there, and it was pretty to see her chil-
dren with her. Her two sons, one married, the
other a young officer, were so respectful and fond of
their mother, and her daughter perfectly devoted
to her.
The men all went off to smoke after coffee, and
we women were left to ourselves for quite a long
time. The three ladies all had work knitting or
crochet and were making little garments, bras-
sieres, and petticoats for all the village children.
They were quite surprised that I had nothing and
said they would teach me to crochet. The evening
was not very long after the men came back. Some
remained in the billiard-room, which opens out of
the salon, and played cochonnet, a favourite French
game. We heard violent discussions as to the
placing of the balls, and some one asked for a yard
measure, to be quite sure the count was correct.
Before we broke up M. A. announced the pro-
gramme for the next day. Breakfast for all the
men at eight o'clock in the dining-room, and an
immediate start for the woods; luncheon at the
Pavilion d'Hiver at twelve in the woods, the ladies
invited to join the shooters and follow one or two
battues afterward. It was a clear, cold night, and
there seemed every prospect of a beautiful day for
the battues.
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The next morning was lovely. I went to my
maid's room, just across the corridor to see the
motors start. All our rooms looked out on the
park, and on the other side of the corridor was a
succession of small rooms giving on the court-yard,
which were always kept for the maids and valets
of the guests. It was an excellent arrangement,
for in some of the big chateaux, where the servants
were at the top of the house, or far off in another
wing, communications were difficult. There were
two carriages and a sort of tapissiere following with
guns, servants, and cartridges. I had a message
from Mme. A. asking if I had slept well, and
sending me the paper; and a visit from Comtesse
de B. who, I think, was rather anxious about
my garments. She had told me the night before
that the ploughed fields were something awful, and
hoped I had brought short skirts and thick boots.
I think the sight of my short Scotch homespun
skirt and high boots reassured her. We started
about 11.30 in an open carriage with plenty of
furs and wraps. It wasn't really very cold just
a nice nip in the air, and no wind. We drove
straight into the woods from the park. There is
a beautiful green alley which faces one just going
out of the gate, but it was too steep to mount in a
carriage. The woods are very extensive, the roads
not too bad considering the season, extremely
[71]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
well kept. Every now and then through an open-
ing in the trees we had a pretty view over the plains.
As we got near the pavilion we heard shots not
very far off evidently the shooters were getting
hungry and coming our way. It was a pretty
rustic scene as we arrived. The pavilion, a log
house, standing in a clearing, alleys branching off
in every direction, a horse and cart which had
brought the provisions from the chateau tied to
one of the trees. It was shut in on three sides,
wide open in front, a bright fire burning and a most
appetizing table spread. Just outside another big
fire was burning, the cook waiting for the first
sportsman to appear to begin his classic dishes,
omelette au lard and ragout de mouton. I was
rather hungry and asked for a piece of the pain de
menage they had for the traqueurs (beaters). I
like the brown country bread so much better than
the little rolls and crisp loaves most people ask for
in France. Besides our own breakfast there was
an enormous pot on the fire with what looked like
an excellent substantial soup for the men. In a
few minutes the party arrived; first the shooters,
each man carrying his gun; then the game cart,
which looked very well garnished, an army of
beaters bringing up the rear. They made quite a
picturesque group, all dressed in white. There
have been so many accidents in some of the big
[72]
COUNTRY VISITS
shoots, people imprudently firing at something
moving in the bushes, which proved to be a man
and not a roebuck, that M. A. dresses all his
men in white. The gentlemen were very cheerful,
said they had had capital sport, and were quite
ready for their breakfast. We didn't linger very
long at table, as the days were shortening fast, and
we wanted to follow some of the battues. The
beaters had their breakfast while we were having
ours were all seated on the ground around a big
kettle of soup, with huge hunks of brown bread
on their tin plates.
We started off with the shooters. Some walking,
some driving, and had one pretty battue of rabbits ;
after that two of pheasants, which were most amus-
ing. There were plenty of birds, and they came
rocketing over our heads in fine style. I found
that Comtesse de B. was quite right about the
necessity for short skirts and thick boots. We
stood on the edge of a ploughed field, which we had
to cross afterward on our way home, and I didn't
think it was possible to have such cakes of mud
as we had on our boots. We scraped off some with
sticks, but our boots were so heavy with what re-
mained that the walk home was tiring.
Mme. A. was standing at the hall-door when
we arrived, and requested us not to come into the
hall, but to go in by the lingerie entrance and up
[73]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
the back stairs, so I fancy we hadn't got much dirt
off. I had a nice rest until 4.30, when I went down
to the salon for tea. We had all changed our out-
door garments and got into rather smart day
dresses (none of those ladies wore tea-gowns) . The
men appeared about five ; some of them came into
the salon notwithstanding their muddy boots, and
then came the livre de chasse and the recapitulation
of the game, which is always most amusing. Every
man counted more pieces than his beater had found.
The dinner and evening were pleasant, the guests
changing a little. Two of the original party went
off before dinner, two others arrived, one of them a
Cabinet minister (Finances). He was very clever
and defended himself well when his policy was
freely criticised. While we women were alone
after dinner, Mme. A. showed me how to make
crochet petticoats. She gave me a crochet-needle
and some wool and had wonderful patience, for it
seemed a most arduous undertaking to me, and all
my rows were always crooked; however, I did
learn, and have made hundreds since. All the
children in our village pull up their little frocks
and show me their crochet petticoats whenever we
meet them. They are delighted to have them, for
those we make are of good wool (not laine de bien-
faisance, which is stiff and coarse), and last much
longer than those one buys.
[74]
COUNTRY VISITS
The second day was quite different. There was
no shooting. We were left to our own devices until
twelve o'clock breakfast. W. and I went for a
short stroll in the park. We met M. A., who
took us over the farm, all so well ordered and pros-
perous. After breakfast we had about an hour of
salon before starting for the regular tournee de
proprietaire through park and gardens. The three
ladies Mme. A., her daughter, and daughter-in-
law had beautiful work. Mme. A. was mak-
ing portieres for her daughter's room, a most
elaborate pattern, reeds and high plants, a very
large piece of work; the other two had also very
complicated work one a table-cover, velvet, heav-
ily embroidered, the other a church ornament
(almost all the Frenchwomen of a certain monde
turn their wedding dresses, usually of white satin,
into a priest's vetement. The Catholic priests
have all sorts of vestments which they wear on
different occasions; purple in Lent, red on any
martyr's fete, white for all the fetes of the Virgin.
Some of the churches are very rich with chasubles
and altar-cloths trimmed with fine old lace, which
have been given to them. It looks funny some-
times to see a very ordinary country cure, a farm-
er's son, with a heavy peasant face, wearing one of
those delicate white-satin chasubles.
Before starting to join the shooters at break-
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
fast Mme. A. took me all over the house. It is
really a beautiful establishment, very large, and
most comfortable. Quantities of pictures and en-
gravings, and beautiful Empire furniture. There
is quite a large chapel at the end of the corridor on
the ground-floor, where they have mass every
Sunday. The young couple have a charming in-
stallation, really a small house, in one of the wings
bedrooms, dressing-rooms, boudoir, cabinet de
travail, and a separate entrance so that M. A.
can receive any one who comes to see him on
business without having them pass through the
chateau. Mme. A. has her rooms on the
ground-floor at the other end of the house. Her
sitting-room with glass door opens into a winter
garden filled with plants, which gives on the park;
her bedroom is on the other side, looking on the
court-yard; a large library next it, light and space
everywhere, plenty of servants, everything ad-
mirably arranged.
The evening mail goes out at 7.30, and every
evening at seven exactly the letter-carrier came
down the corridor knocking at all the doors and
asking for letters. He had stamps, too, at least
French stamps. I could never get a foreign stamp
(twenty-five centimes) had to put one of fifteen
and two of five when I had a foreign letter. I
don't really think there were any in the country.
[76]
COUNTRY VISITS
I don't believe they had a foreign correspondent
of any description. It was a thoroughly French
establishment of the best kind.
We walked about the small park and gardens
in the afternoon. The gardens are enormous;
one can drive through them. Mme. A. drove
in her pony carriage. They still had some lovely
late roses which filled me with envy ours were
quite finished.
The next day was not quite so fine, gray and
misty, but a good shooting day, no wind. We
joined the gentlemen for lunch in another pavilion
farther away and rather more open than the one
of the other day. However, we were warm enough
with our coats on, a good fire burning, and hot
bricks for our feet. The battues (aux echelles)
that day were quite a new experience for me. I
had never seen anything like it. The shooters
were placed in a semicircle, not very far apart.
Each man was provided with a high double lad-
der. The men stood on the top (the women
seated themselves on the rungs of the ladders and
hung on as well as they could). I went the first
time with W., and he made me so many recom-
mendations that I was quite nervous. I mustn't
sit too high up or I would gener him, as he was
obliged to shoot down for the rabbits; and I
mustn't sit too near the ground, or I might get a
[77]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
shot in the ankles from one of the other men. I
can't say it was an absolute pleasure. The seat
(if seat it could be called) was anything but com-
fortable, and the detonation of the gun just over
my head was decidedly trying; still it was a novelty,
and if the other women could stand it I could.
For the second battue I went with Comte de
B. That was rather worse, for he shot much oft-
ener than W., and I was quite distracted with
the noise of the gun. We were nearer the other
shooters, too, and I fancied their aim was very
near my ankles. It was a pretty view from the
top of the ladder. I climbed up when the battues
were over. We looked over the park and through
the trees, quite bare and stripped of their leaves,
on the great plains, with hardly a break of wood
or hills, stretching away to the horizon. The
ground was thickly carpeted with red and yellow
leaves, little columns of smoke rising at intervals
where people were burning weeds or rotten wood
in the fields; and just enough purple mist to
poetize everything. B. is a very careful shot. I
was with him the first day at a rabbit battue
where we were placed rather near each other, and
every man was asked to keep quite to his own
place and to shoot straight before him. After one
or two shots B. stepped back and gave his gun
to his servant. I asked what was the matter. He
[78]
COUNTRY VISITS
showed me the man next, evidently not used to
shooting, who was walking up and down, shooting
in every direction, and as fast as he could cram the
cartridges into his gun. So he stepped back into
the alley and waited until the battue was over.
The party was much smaller* that night at din-
ner. Every one went away but W. and me. The
talk was most interesting all about the war, the
first days of the Assemblee Nationale at Bordeaux,
and the famous visit of the Comte de Chambord
to Versailles, when the Marechal de MacMahon,
President of the Republic, refused to see him. I
told them of my first evening visit to Mme. Thiers,
the year I was married. Mme. Thiers lived in a
big gloomy house in the Place St. Georges, and
received every evening. M. Thiers, who was a
great worker all his life and a very early riser,
always took a nap at the end of the day. The
ladies (Mile. Dosne, a sister of Mme. Thiers, lived
with them) unfortunately had not that good habit.
They took their little sleep after dinner. We
arrived there (it was a long way from us, we lived
near the Arc de TEtoile) one evening a little before
ten. There were already four or five men, no
ladies. We were shown into a large drawing-room,
M. Thiers standing with his back to the fireplace,
the centre of a group of black coats. He was very
amiable, said I would find Mme. Thiers in a small
[79]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
salon just at the end of the big one; told W. to
join their group, he had something to say to him,
and I passed on. I did find Mme. Thiers and
Mile. Dosne in the small salon at the other end,
both asleep, each in an arm-chair. I was really
embarrassed. They didn't hear me coming in, and
\tfere sleeping quite happily and comfortably. I
didn't like to go back to the other salon, where
there were only men, so I sat down on a sofa and
looked about me, and tried to feel as if it was quite
a natural occurrence to be invited to come in the
evening and to find my hostess asleep. After a
few minutes 1 heard the swish of a satin dress
coming down the big salon and a lady appeared,
very handsome and well dressed, whom I didn't
know at all. She evidently was accustomed to the
state of things; she looked about her smilingly,
then came up to me, called me by name, and in-
troduced herself, Mme. A. the wife of an ad-
miral whom I often met afterward. She told me
not to mind, there wasn't the slightest intention of
rudeness, that both ladies would wake up in a
few minutes quite unconscious of having really
slept. We talked about ten minutes, not lowering
our voices particularly. Suddenly Mme. Thiers
opened her eyes, was wide awake at once how
quietly we must have come in; she had only just
closed her eyes for a moment, the lights tired her,
E80J
COUNTRY VISITS
etc. Mile. Dosne said the same thing, and then
we went on talking easily enough. Several more
ladies came in, but only two or three men. They
all remained in the farther room talking, or rather
listening, to M. Thiers. He was already a very
old man, and when he began to talk no one
interrupted him; it was almost a monologue. I
went back several times to the Place St. Georges,
but took good care to go later, so that the ladies
should have their nap over. One of the young
diplomat's wives had the same experience, rather
worse, for when the ladies woke up they didn't
know her. She was very shy, spent a wretched
ten minutes before they woke, and was too ner-
vous to name herself. She was half crying when
her husband came to th rescue.
We left the next morning early, as W. had
people coming to him in the afternoon. I enjoyed
my visit thoroughly, and told them afterward of
my misgivings and doubts as to how I should get
along with strangers for two or three days. I
think they had rather the same feeling. They
were very old friends of my husband's, and though
they received me charmingly from the first, it
brought a foreign and new element into their circle.
Another interesting old chateau, most pictur-
esque, with towers, moat, and drawbridge, is
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
Lorrey-le-Bocage, belonging to the Comte de
S. It stands very well, in a broad moat
the water clear and rippling and finishing in a
pretty little stream that runs off through the
meadows. The place is beautifully kept gar-
dens, lawns, courts, in perfect order. It has no
particular historic interest for the family, having
been bought by the parents of the present
owner.
I was there, the first time, in very hot weather,
the 14th of July (the French National fete com-
memorating the fall of the Bastille). I went for
a stroll in the park the morning after I arrived,
but I collapsed under a big tree at once hadn't
the energy to move. Everything looked so hot and
not a breath of air anywhere. The moat looked
glazed so absolutely still under the bright sum-
mer sun big flies were buzzing and skimming
over the surface, and the flowers and plants were
drooping in their beds.
Inside it was delightful, the walls so thick that
neither heat nor cold could penetrate. The house
is charming. The big drawing-room where we
always sat was a large, bright room with win-
dows on each side and lovely views over park and
gardens ; and all sorts of family portraits and sou-
venirs dating from Louis XV to the Comte de
Paris. The men of the family all ardent Royal-
COUNTRY VISITS
ists have been, for generations, distinguished as
soldiers and statesmen.
One of them a son of the famous Marechal de
S, brought up in the last years of the reign of
Louis XV carried his youthful ardour and dreams
of liberty to America and took part, as did so
many of the young French nobles, in the great
struggle for independence that was being fought
out on the other side of the Atlantic. Soon after
his return to France he was named Ambassador to
Russia to the court of Catherine II, and was sup-
posed to have been very much in the good graces
of that very pleasure-loving sovereign. He ac-
companied her on her famous trip to the Crimea,
arranged for her by her minister and favourite,
Potemkin when fairy villages, with happy popu-
lations singing and dancing, sprang up in the road
wherever she passed as if by magic quite dis-
pelling her ideas of the poverty and oppression of
some of her subjects.
Among the portraits there is a miniature of the
Empress Catherine. It is a fine, strongly marked
face. She wears a high fur cap a sort of military
pelisse with lace jabots and diamond star. The son
of the Marechal, also soldier and courtier, was aide-
de-camp to Napoleon and made almost all his cam-
paigns with him. His description of the Russian
campaign and the retreat of the "Grande Armee"
[83]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
from Moscow is one of the most graphic and in-
teresting that has ever been written of those awful
days. His memoirs are quite charming. Child-
hood and early youth passed in the country in all
the agonies of the Terror simply and severely
brought up in an atmosphere absolutely hostile to
any national or popular movement.
The young student, dreaming of a future and
regeneration for France, arrived one day in Paris,
where an unwonted stir denoted that something
was going on. He heard and saw the young
Republican General Bonaparte addressing some
regiments. He marked the proud bearing of the
men even the recruits and in an explosion of
patriotism his vocation was decided. He enlisted
at once in the Republican ranks. It was a terrible
decision to confide to his family, and particularly
to his grandfather, the old Marechal de S. a
glorious veteran of many campaigns and an ardent
Royalist. His father approved, although it was a
terrible falling off from all the lessons and exam-
ples of his family but it was a difficult confession
to make to the Marechal. I will give the scene in
his own words (translated, of course the original
is in French).
"I was obliged to return to Chalenoy to relate
my 'coup-de-tete' to my grandfather. I arrived
early in the morning and approached his bed in
[84]
COUNTRY VISITS
the most humble attitude. He said to me, very
sharply, 'You have been unfaithful to all the
traditions of your ancestors but it is done. Re-
member that you have enlisted voluntarily in the
Republican army; serve it frankly and loyally, for
your decision is made, you cannot now go back
on it.' Then seeing the tears running down my
cheeks (he too was moved), and taking my hand
with the only one he had left, he drew me to him
and pressed me on his heart. Then giving me
seventy louis (it was all he had), he added, 'This
will help you to complete your equipment go,
and at least carry bravely and faithfully, under
the flag it has pleased you to choose, the name you
bear and the honour of your family."
The present Count, too, has played a part in
politics in these troublous times, when decisions
were almost as hard to take, and one was torn
between the desire to do something for one's
country and the difficulty of detaching oneself
from old traditions and memories. People whose
grandfathers have died on the scaffold can hardly
be expected to be enthusiastic about the Republic
and the Marseillaise. Yet if the nation wants
the Republic, and every election accentuates that
opinion, it is very difficult to fight against the
current.
When I first married, just after the Franco-
[85]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
Prussian War, there seemed some chance of the
moderate men, on both sides, joining in a common
effort against the radical movement, putting them-
selves at the head of it and in that way directing
and controlling but very soon the different sec-
tions in parliament defined themselves so sharply
that any sort of compromise was difficult. My
host was named deputy, immediately after the
war, and though by instinct, training, and associa-
tion a Royalist and a personal friend of the Orleans
family, he was one of a small group of liberal-
patriotic deputies who might have supported
loyally a moderate Republic had the other Repub-
licans not made their position untenable. There
was an instinctive, unreasonable distrust of any
of the old families whose names and antecedents
had kept them apart from any republican move-
ment.
We had pleasant afternoons in the big drawing-
room. In the morning we did what we liked.
The Maitresse de Maison never appeared in the
drawing-room till the twelve o'clock breakfast. I
used to see her from my window, coming and
going sometimes walking, when she was making
the round of the farm and garden, oftener in her
little pony carriage and occasionally in the auto-
mobile of her niece, who was staying in the house.
She occupied herself very much with all the village
[86]
COUNTRY VISITS
>ld people and children, everybody. After
breakfast we used to sit sometimes in the drawing-
room the two ladies working, the Comte de S.
reading his paper and telling us anything interest-
ing he found there. Both ladies had most artistic
work Mme. de S. a church ornament, white
satin ground with raised flowers and garlands,
stretched, of course, on the large embroidery
frames they all use. Her niece, Duchesse d'E.,
had quite another "installation" in one of the
windows a table with all sorts of delicate little
instruments. She was book-binding doing quite
lovely things in imitation of the old French bind-
ing. It was a work that required most delicate
manipulation, but she seemed to do it quite easily.
I was rather humiliated with my little knit petti-
coats very hot work it is on a blazing July day.
87]
in
THE HOME OF LAFAYETTE
EL GRANGE was looking its loveliest when I
arrived the other day. It was a bright,
beautiful October afternoon and the first glimpse
of the chateau was most picturesque. It was all
the more striking as the run down from Paris was
so ugly and commonplace. The suburbs of Paris
around the Gare de 1'Est the Plain of St. Denis
and all the small villages, with kitchen gardens,
rows of green vegetables under glass "cloches"
are anything but interesting. It was not until we
got near Grety and alongside of Ferrieres, the big
Rothschild place, that we seemed to be in the
country. The broad green alleys of the park, with
the trees just changing a little, were quite charm-
ing. Our station was Verneuil 1'Etang, a quiet
little country station dumped down in the middle
of the fields, and a drive of about fifty minutes
brought us to the chateau. The country is not at
all pretty, always the same thing great cultivated
fields stretching off on each side of the road every
[88]
THE HOME OF LAFAYETTE
now and then a little wood or clump of trees.
One does not see the chateau from the high
road.
We turned off sharply to the left and at the end
of a long avenue saw the house, half hidden by the
trees. The entrance through a low archway,
flanked on each side by high round towers covered
with ivy, is most picturesque. The chateau is
built around three sides of a square court-yard,
the other side looking straight over broad green
meadows ending in a background of wood. A
moat runs almost all around the house a border
of salvias making a belt of colour which is most
effective. We found the family Marquis and
Marquise de Lasteyrie and their two sons waiting
at the hall door. The Marquis, great-grandson
of the General Marquis de Lafayette, is a type of
the well-born, courteous French gentleman (one of
the most attractive types, to my mind, that one
can meet anywhere). There is something in per-
fectly well-bred French people of a certain class
that one never sees in any other nationality. Such
refinement and charm of manner a great desire
to put every one at their ease and to please the
person with whom they are thrown for the mo-
ment. That, after all, is all one cares for in the
casual acquaintances one makes in society. From
friends, of course, we want something deeper and
[89]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
more lasting, but life is too short to find out
the depth and sterling qualities of the world in
general.
The Marquise is an Englishwoman, a cousin of
her husband, their common ancestor being the
Duke of Leinster; clever, cultivated, hospitable,
and very large minded, which has helped her very
much in her married life in France during our
troubled epoch, when religious questions and po-
litical discussions do so much to embitter personal
relations. The two sons are young and gay, doing
the honours of their home simply and with no pose
of any kind. There were two English couples
staying in the house.
We had tea in the dining-room downstairs a
large room with panels and chimney-piece of dark
carved wood. Two portraits of men in armour
stand out well from the dark background. There
is such a wealth of pictures, engravings, and
tapestries all over the house that one cannot take
it all in at first. The two drawing-rooms on the
first floor are large and comfortable, running
straight through the house; the end room in the
tower a round room with windows on all sides
quite charming. The contrast between the mod-
ern English comforts (low, wide chats, writing-
table, rugs, cushions, and centre-table covered with
books in all languages, a verv rare thing in a
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THE HOME OF LAFAYETTE
French chateau, picture papers, photographs, etc.)
and the straight-backed, spindle-legged old fur-
niture and stiff, old-fashioned ladies and gentle-
men, looking down from their heavy gold frames,
is very attractive. There is none of the formality
and look of not being lived in which one sees in so
many French salons, and yet it is not at all mod-
ern. One never loses for a moment the feeling of
being in an old chateau-fort.
It was so pretty looking out of my bedroom
window this morning. It was a bright, beautiful
autumn day, the grass still quite green. Some of
the trees changing a little, the yellow leaves quite
golden in the sun. There are many American
trees in the park a splendid Virginia Creeper, and
a Gloire de Dijon rose-bush, still full of bloom,
were sprawling over the old gray walls. Animals of
all kinds were walking about the court-yard ; some
swans and a lame duck, which had wandered up
from the moat, standing on the edge and looking
about with much interest; a lively little fox-ter-
rier, making frantic dashes at nothing; one of the
sons starting for a shoot with gaiters and game-bag,
and his gun over his shoulder, his dog at his heels
expectant and eager. Some of the guests were
strolling about and from almost all the windows
wide open to let in the warm morning sun there
came cheerful greetings.
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
I went for a walk around the house before break-
fast. There are five large round towers covered
with ivy the walls extraordinarily thick the nar-
row little slits for shooting with arrows and the
round holes for cannon balls tell their own story
of rough feudal life. On one side of the castle
there is a large hole in the wall, made by a cannon
ball sent by Turenne. He was passing one day
and asked to whom the chateau belonged. On
hearing that the owner was the Marechal de la
Feuillade, one of his political adversaries, he sent
a cannon ball as a souvenir of his passage, and the
gap has never been filled up.
I went all over the house later with the Marquis
de Lasteyrie. Of course, what interested me most
was Lafayette's private apartments bedroom and
library the latter left precisely as it was during
Lafayette's lifetime; bookcases filled with his
books in their old-fashioned bindings, running
straight around the walls and a collection of manu-
scripts and autograph letters from kings and
queens of France and most of the celebrities of the
days of the Valois among them several letters
from Catherine de Medicis, Henry IV, and la Reine
Margot. One curious one from Queen Margot in
which she explains to the Vicomte de Chabot (an-
cestor of my host) that she was very much pre-
occupied in looking out for a wife for him with a
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THE HOME OF LAFAYETTE
fine dot, but that it was always difficult to find a
rich heiress for a poor seigneur.
There are also autographs of more modern days,
among which is a letter from an English prince to
the Vicomte de Chabot (grandfather of the Mar-
quis de Lasteyrie), saying that he loses no time in
telling him of the birth of a very fine little girl. He
certainly never realized when he wrote that letter
what would be the future of his baby daughter.
The writer was the Duke of Kent the fine little
girl, Queen Victoria.
In a deep window-seat in one corner, overlooking
the farm, is the writing-table of Lafayette. In the
drawers are preserved several books of accounts,
many of the items being in his handwriting. Also
his leather arm-chair (which was exhibited at the
Chicago World's Fair), and a horn or speaking-
trumpet through which he gave his orders to the
farm hands from the window. The library opened
into his bedroom now the boudoir of the Mar-
quise de Lasteyrie with a fine view over moat and
meadow. In this room there have been many
changes, but the old doors of carved oak still
remain.
There are many interesting family portraits
one of the father of Lafayette, killed at Minden,
leaving his young son to be brought up by two aunts,
whose portraits are on either side of the fireplace.
[93]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
It is curious to see the two portraits of the same
epoch so absolutely unlike. Mme. de Chavagnac,
an old lady, very simply dressed, almost Puritan-
ical, with a white muslin fichu over her plain black
silk dress the other, Mademoiselle de Lafayette,
in the court dress of the time of Louis XVI, pearls
and roses in the high, powdered coiffure and a
bunch of orange flowers on one shoulder, to indi-
cate that she was not a married woman.
There were pictures and souvenirs of all the
Orleans family the Lasteyries having been always
faithful and devoted friends of those unfortunate
princes; a charming engraving of the Comte de
Paris, a noble looking boy in all the bravery of
white satin and feathers the original picture is in
the possession of the Due de Chartres. It was sad
to realize when one looked at the little prince with
his bright eyes and proud bearing, that the end of
his life would be so melancholy exile and death
in a foreign land.
There are all sorts of interesting pictures and
engravings scattered about the house in the num-
berless corridors and anterooms. One most in-
teresting and very rare print represents a review
at Potsdam held by Frederick the Great. Two
conspicuous figures are the young Marquis de
Lafayette in powdered wig and black silk ribbon,
and the English General Lord Cornwallis, destined
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THE HOME OF LAFAYETTE
to meet as adversaries many years later during
the American Revolution. There are many family
pictures on the great stone staircase, both French
and English, the Marquis de Lasteyrie, on the ma-
ternal side, being a great-grandson of the Duke of
Leinster. Some of the English portraits are very
charming, quite different from the French pictures.
In the centre panel is the well-known portrait of
Lafayette by Ary Scheffer not in uniform no
trace of the dashing young soldier; a middle-aged
man in a long fur coat, hat and stick in his hand;
looking, as one can imagine he did when he settled
down, after his brilliant and eventful career, to the
simple patriarchal life at La Grange, surrounded
by devoted children, grandchildren, and friends.
We were interrupted long before I had seen all
the interesting part of the house and its contents,
as it was time to start for La Houssaye, where all
the party were expected at tea. We went off in
three carriages quite like a "noce," as the Mar-
quise remarked. The drive (about an hour) was
not particularly interesting. We were in the heart
of the great agricultural district and drove through
kilometres of planted fields no hills and few
woods.
We came rather suddenly on the chateau, which
stands low, like all chateaux surrounded by moats,
turning directly from the little village into the
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
park, which is beautifully laid out with fine old
trees. We had glimpses of a lovely garden as we
drove up to the house, and of two old towers one
round and one square. The chateau stands well
a very broad moat, almost a river, running straight
around the house and gardens. We crossed the
drawbridge, which always gives me a sensation of
old feudal times and recalls the days of my child-
hood when I used to sit under the sickle-pear
tree at "Cherry Lawn" reading Scott's "Mar-
mion" "Up drawbridge, grooms what, Warder,
ho! Let the portcullis fall!" wondering what a
"portcullis" was, and if I should ever see one or
even a chateau-fort.
La Houssaye is an old castle built in the eleventh
century, but has passed through many vicissitudes.
All that remains of the original building are the
towers and the foundations. It was restored in
the sixteenth century and has since remained un-
changed. During the French Revolution the fam-
ily of the actual proprietor installed themselves in
one of the towers and lived there many long weary
weeks, never daring to venture out, show any
lights, or give any sign of life hi daily terror of
being discovered and dragged to Paris before the
dreaded revolutionary tribunals. Later it was
given, by Napoleon, to the Marshall Augereau,
who died there. It has since been in the family of
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THE HOME OF LAFAYETTE
the present proprietor, Monsieur de Mimont, who
married an American, Miss Forbes.
The rain, which had been threatening all the
afternoon, came down in torrents just as we
crossed the drawbridge, much to the disappoint-
ment of our host and hostess, who were anxious to
show us their garden, which is famous in all the
countryside. However, in spite of the driving
rain, we caught glimpses through the windows of
splendid parterres of salvias and cannas, making
great spots of colour in a beautiful bit of smooth
green lawn. In old days the chateau was much
bigger, stretching out to the towers. Each suc-
cessive proprietor has diminished the buildings,
and the present chateau, at the back, stands some
little distance from the moat, the vacant space
being now transformed into their beautiful gardens.
We only saw the ground-floor of the house,
which is most comfortable. We left our wraps
in the large square hall and passed through one
drawing-room and a small library into another,
which is charming a corner room looking on the
gardens the walls, panels of light gray wood,
prettily carved with wreaths and flowers.
We had tea in the dining-room on the other side
of the hall; a curious room, rather, with red brick
walls and two old narrow doors of carved oak.
The tea most abundant was very acceptable
[97]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
after our long damp drive. One dish was rather
a surprise American waffles not often to be
found, I imagine, in an old French feudal castle,
but Madame de Mimont's nationality explained it.
I was very sorry not to see the park which is
beautifully laid out, but the rain was falling
straight down as hard as it could almost making
waves in the moat, and a curtain of mist cut off
the end of the park.
Our dinner and evening at La Grange were de-
lightful. The dining-room is particularly charm-
ing at night. The flowers on the table, this even-
ing, were red, and the lights from the handsome
silver candelabres made a brilliant spot of warmth
and colour against the dark panelled walls just
shining on the armour of the fine Ormond por-
traits hanging on each side of the fireplace. The
talk was always easy and pleasant.
One of the guests, the naval attache to the
British Embassy to France, had been "en mis-
sion" at Madrid at the time of the Spanish Royal
marriage. The balcony of the English Embassy
overlooked the spot where the bomb was thrown.
In eighty-five seconds from the time they heard
the detonation (in the first second they thought it
was a salute), the Ambassador, followed by his
suite, was at the door of the royal carriage. He
said the young sovereigns looked very pale but
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THE HOME OF LAFAYETTE
calm; the king, perhaps, more agitated than the
Queen.
We finished the evening with music and dumb
crambo that particularly English form of amuse-
ment, which I have never seen well done except
by English people. It always fills me with as-
tonishment whenever I see it. It is so at variance
with the English character. They are usually so
very shy and self-conscious. One would never
believe they could throw themselves into this
really childish game with so much entrain. The
performance is simple enough. Some of the com-
pany retire from the drawing-room; those who
remain choose a word chair, hat, cat, etc. This
evening the word was "mat." We told the two
actors Mrs. P. and the son of the house
they must act (nothing spoken) a word which
rhymed with hat. I will say they found it very
quickly, but some of their attempts were funny
enough really very cleverly done. It amused me
perfectly, though I must frankly confess I should
have been incapable of either acting or guessing
the word. The only one I made out was fat,
when they both came in so stuffed out with pil-
lows and bolsters as to be almost unrecognizable.
The two dogs a beautiful little fox-terrier and a
fine collie went nearly mad, barking and yapping
every time the couple appeared their excitement
[99]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
reaching a climax when the actors came in and
stretched themselves out on each side of the door,
having finally divined the word mat. The dogs
made such frantic dashes at them that M. and
Mme. de Lasteyrie had to carry them off bodily.
The next morning I went for a walk with M. de
Lasteyrie. We strolled up and down the "Allee
des Soupirs," so called in remembrance of one of
the early chatelaines who trailed her mourning
robes and widow's veil over the fallen leaves, be-
moaning her solitude until a favoured suitor ap-
peared on the scene and carried her away to his
distant home but the Allee still retains its name.
The park is small, but very well laid out. Many
of the memoirs of the time speak of walks and
talks with Lafayette under the beautiful trees.
During the last years of Lafayette's life, La
Grange was a cosmopolitan centre. Distinguished
people from all countries came there, anxious to see
the great champion of liberty; among them many
Americans, who always found a gracious, cordial
welcome; one silent guest a most curious epi-
sode which I will give in the words of the Marquis
de Lasteyrie:
"One American, however, in Lafayette's own
time, came on a lonely pilgrimage to La Grange;
he was greeted with respect, but of that greeting
he took no heed. He was a silent guest, nor has he
[100]
THE HOME OF LAFAYETTE
left any record of his impressions; in fact, he
was dead before starting on his journey. He
arrived quite simply one fine autumn morning, in
his coffin, accompanied by a letter which said:
'William Summerville, having the greatest ad-
miration for the General Lafayette, begs he will
bury him in his land at La Grange.' This, being
against the law, could not be done, but Lafayette
bought the whole of the small cemetery of the
neighbouring village and laid the traveller from
over the sea to rest in his ground indeed, though
not under one of the many American trees at La
Grange itself, of which the enthusiastic wanderer
had probably dreamed."
They told me many interesting things, too long
to write, about the last years of Lafayette's life
spent principally at La Grange. A charming ac-
count of that time and the lavish hospitality of the
chateau is given by Lady Morgan, in her well-
known "Diary." Some of her descriptions are
most amusing; the arrival, for instance, of Lady
Holland at the home of the Republican General.
"She is always preceded by a fourgon from Lon-
don containing her own favourite meubles of
Holland House her bed, fauteuil, carpet, etc.,
and divers other articles too numerous to mention,
but which enter into her Ladyship's superflu-
choses tres necessaires, at least to a grande dame
[101]
LIFE IN FRANCE
one of her female attendants and a groom of the
chambers precede her to make all ready for her
reception. However, her original manner, though
it startles the French ladies, amuses them."
Her Irish ladyship (Lady Morgan) seems to
have been troubled by no shyness in asking ques-
tions of the General. She writes: "Is it true,
General, I asked, that you once went to a bal
masque at the opera with the Queen of France-
Marie Antoinette leaning on your arm, the King
knowing nothing of the matter till her return ? I
am afraid so, said he. She was so indiscreet, and
I can conscientiously add so innocent. However,
the Comte d'Artois was also of the party, and we
were all young, enterprising, and pleasure-loving.
But what is most absurd in the adventure was
that, when I pointed out Mme. du Barry to her
whose figure and favourite domino I knew the
Queen expressed the most anxious desire to hear
her speak and bade me intriguer her. She an-
swered me flippantly, and I am sure if I had
offered her my other arm, the Queen would not
have objected to it. Such was the esprit d'aven-
ture at that time in the court of Versailles and in
the head of the haughty daughter of Austria."
I remember quite well the parents of my host.
The Marquise, a type of the grande dame, with
blue eyes and snow white hair survived her hus-
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THE HOME OF LAFAYETTE
band many years. During the war of 1870 they,
like many other chatelains, had Prussian soldiers
in their house. The following characteristic anec-
dote of the Marquise was told to me by her son:
' ' There are still to be seen at La Grange two
little cannon which had been given to Lafayette
by the Garde Nationale. One December morning,
in 1870, when the house was full of German troops,
Madame de Lasteyrie was awakened by a noise
under the archway, and looking out of her window
saw, in the dim light, the two guns being carried
off by the German soldiers. In an instant, her
bare feet hastily thrust into slippers, her hair like
a long white mane hanging down her back, with a
dressing gown thrown over her shoulders, she
started in pursuit. She followed them about three
miles and at last came upon them at the top of a
hill. After much persuasion and after spiking the
guns (in no case could they have done great dam-
age), the soldiers were induced to give them up,
and departed, leaving her alone in the frost and
starlight waiting for the morning. She sat bare-
footed (for she had lost her shoes) but triumphant
on her small cannon in the deep snow till the day
came and the farm people stole out and dragged
them all the old lady and the two guns back to
the house."
I was sorry to go the old chateau, with its walls
[103]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
and towers soft and grey in the sunlight, seems to
belong absolutely to another century. I felt as if
I had been transported a hundred years back and
had lived a little of the simple patriarchal life that
made such a beautiful end to Lafayette's long and
eventful career. The present owner keeps up the
traditions of his grandfather. I was thinking last
night what a cosmopolitan group we were. Three
or four different nationalities, speaking alternately
the two languages French and English many of
the party having travelled all over the world and
all interested in politics, literature, and music; in
a different way, perhaps, but quite as much as the
"belles dames et beaux esprits" of a hundred
years ago. Everything changes as time goes on
(I don't know if I would say that everything im-
proves), but I carried away the same impression of
a warm welcome and large hospitable life that
every one speaks of who saw La Grange during
Lafayette's life.
[104]
IV
WINTER AT THE CHATEAU
WE had a very cold winter one year a great
deal of snow, which froze as it fell and lay
a long time on the hard ground. We woke up one
morning in a perfectly still white world. It had
snowed heavily during the night, and the house
was surrounded by a glistening white carpet which
stretched away to the "sapinette" at the top of the
lawn without a speck or flaw. There was no
trace of path or road, or little low shrubs, and even
the branches of the big lime-trees were heavy with
snow. It was a bright, beautiful day blue sky
and a not too pale winter sun. Not a vehicle of
any kind had ventured out. In the middle of the
road were footprints deep in the snow where evi-
dently the keepers and some workmen had passed.
Nothing and no one had arrived from outside,
neither postman, butcher, nor baker. The chef
was in a wild state; but I assured him we c'ould
get on with eggs and game, of which there was
always a provision for one day at any rate.
[105]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
About eleven, Pauline and I started out. We
thought we would go as far as the lodge and see
what was going on on the highroad. We put on
thick boots, gaiters and very short skirts, and had
imagined we could walk in the footsteps of the
keepers; but, of course, we couldn't take their
long stride, and we floundered about in the snow.
In some places where it had drifted we went hi
over our knees.
There was nothing visible on the road not a
creature, absolute stillness; a line of footprints in
the middle where some labourer had passed, and
the long stretch of white fields, broken by lines of
black poplars running straight away to the forest.
While we were standing at the gate talking to
old Antoine, who was all muffled up with a woollen
comforter tied over his cap, and socks over his
shoes, we saw a small moving object in the dis-
tance. As it came nearer we made out it was the
postman, also so muffled up as to be hardly recog-
nizable. He too had woollen socks over his shoes,
and said the going was something awful, the
"Montagne de Marolles" a sheet of ice; he had
fallen twice, in spite of his socks and pointed stick.
He said neither butcher nor baker would come
that no horse could get up the hill.
We sent him into the kitchen to thaw, and have
his breakfast. That was one also of the traditions
[106]
WINTER AT THE CHATEAU
of the chateau; the postman always breakfasted.
On Sundays, when there was no second delivery,
he brought his little girl and an accordion, and re-
mained all the afternoon. He often got a lift back
to La Ferte, when the carriage was going in to the
station, or the chef to market in the donkey-cart.
Now many of the postmen have bicycles.
We had a curious feeling of being quite cut off
from the outside world. The children, Francis
and Alice, were having a fine time in the stable-
yard, where the men had made them two snow
figures man and woman (giants) and they were
pelting them with snowballs and tumbling head-
long into the heaps of snow on each side of the
gate, where a passage had been cleared for the
horses.
We thought it would be a good opportunity to
do a little coasting and inaugurate a sled we had
had made with great difficulty the year before. It
was rather a long operation. The wheelwright at
Marolles had never seen anything of the kind, had
no idea what we wanted. Fortunately Francis
had a little sled which one of his cousins had sent
him from America; and with that as a model, and
many explanations, the wheelwright and the black-
smith produced really a very creditable sled quite
large, a seat for two in front, and one behind for
the person who steered. Only when the sled was
[107]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
finished the snow had disappeared ! It rarely lasts
long in France.
We had the sled brought out the runners
needed a little repairing and the next day made
our first attempt. There was not much danger of
meeting anything. A sort of passage had been
cleared, and gravel sprinkled in the middle of the
road; but very few vehicles had passed, and the
snow was as hard as ice. All the establishment
"assisted" at the first trial, and the stable-boy
accompanied us with the donkey who was to pull
the sled up the hill.
We had some little difficulty in starting, Pauline
and I in front, Francis behind; but as soon as we
got fairly on the slope the thing flew. Pauline was
frightened to death, screaming, and wanted to get
off; but I held her tight, and we landed in the
ditch near the foot of the hill. Half-way down
(the hill is steep but straight, one sees a great dis-
tance) Francis saw the diligence arriving; and as
he was not quite sure of his steering-gear, he
thought it was better to take no risks, and steered
us straight into the ditch as hard as we could go.
The sled upset; we all rolled off into the deep soft
snow, lost our hats, and emerged quite white from
head to foot.
The diligence had stopped at the foot of the hill.
There were only two men in it besides the driver,
{108]
WINTER AT THE CHATEAU
the old Pere Jacques, who was dumbfounded when
he recognized Madame Waddington. It seems
they couldn't think what had happened. As they
got to the foot of the hill, they saw a good many
people at the gate of the chateau; then suddenly
something detached itself from the group and
rushed wildly down the hill. They thought it was
an accident, some part of a carriage broken, and
before they had time to collect their senses the
whole thing collapsed in the ditch. The poor old
man was quite disturbed couldn't think we were
not hurt, and begged us to get into the diligence
and not trust ourselves again to such a dangerous
vehicle. However we reassured him, and all
walked up the hill together, the donkey pulling the
sled, which was tied to him with a very primitive
arrangement of ropes, the sled constantly swinging
round and hitting him on the legs, which he
naturally resented and kicked viciously.
We amused ourselves very much as long as the
snow lasted, about ten days coasted often, and
made excursions to the neighbouring villages with
the sled and the donkey. We wanted to skate,
but that was not easy to arrange, as the ponds and
"tourbieres" near us were very deep, and I was
afraid to venture with the children. I told Hubert,
the coachman, who knew the country well, to see
what he could find. He said there was a very
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good pond in the park of the chateau of La Ferte,
and he was sure the proprietor, an old man who
lived there by himself, would be quite pleased to
let us come there.
The old gentleman was most amiable begged
we would come as often as we liked merely mak-
ing one condition, that we should have a man on
the bank (the pond was only about a foot deep)
with a rope in case of accidents. . . . We went
there nearly every afternoon, and made quite a
comfortable "installation" on the bank: a fire,
rugs, chairs and a very good little gouter, the
grocer's daughter bringing us hot wine and biscuits
from the town.
It was a perfect sight for La Ferte. The whole
town came to look at us, and the carters stopped
their teams on the road to look on one day par-
ticularly when one of our cousins, Maurice de
Bunsen,* was staying with us. He skated beauti-
fully, doing all sorts of figures, and his double
eights and initials astounded the simple country
folk. For some time after they spoke of "1'An-
glais" who did such wonderful things on the
ice.
They were bad days for the poor. We used to
meet all the children coming back from school
when we went home. The poor little things toiled
* To-day British Embassador at Madrid.
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WINTER AT THE CHATEAU
up the steep, slippery hill, with often a cold wind
that must have gone through the thin worn-out
jackets and shawls they had for all covering, carry-
ing their satchels and remnants of dinner. Those
that came from a distance always brought their
dinner with them, generally a good hunk of bread
and a piece of chocolate, the poorer ones bread
alone, very often only a stale hard crust that
couldn't have been very nourishing. They were a
very poor lot at our little village, St. Quentin, and
we did all we could in the way of warm stockings
and garments; but the pale, pinched faces rather
haunted me, and Henrietta and I thought we
would try and arrange with the school mistress
who was wife of one of the keepers, to give them a
hot plate of soup every day during the winter
months. W., who knew his people well, rather
discouraged us said they all had a certain sort
of pride, notwithstanding their poverty, and
might perhaps be offended at being treated like
tramps or beggars; but we could try if we
liked.
We got a big kettle at La Ferte, and the good
Mere Cecile of the Asile lent us the tin bowls, also
telling us we wouldn't be able to carry out our
plan. She had tried at the Asile, but it didn't go;
the children didn't care about the soup liked the
bread and chocolate better. It was really a curious
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
experience. I am still astonished when I think of
it. The soup was made at the head-keeper's cot-
tage, standing on the edge of the woods.
We went over the first day about eleven o'clock
a cold, clear day, a biting wind blowing down
the valley. The children were all assembled,
waiting impatiently for us to come. The soup was
smoking in a big pot hung high over the fire. We,
of course, tasted it, borrowing two bowls from the
children and asking Madame Labbey to cut us
two pieces of bread, the children all giggling and
rather shy. The soup was very good, and we were
quite pleased to think that the poor little things
should have something warm in their stomachs.
The first depressing remark was made by our own
coachman on the way home. His little daughter
was living at the keeper's. I said to him, "I did
not see Celine with the other children." "Oh, no,
Madame; she wasn't there. We pay for the food
at Labbey 's; she doesn't need charity."
The next day, equally cold, about half the chil-
dren came (there were only twenty-seven in the
school) ; the third, five or six, rather shamefaced ;
the fourth, not one; and at the end of the week
the keeper's wife begged us to stop the distribution ;
all the parents were hurt at the idea of their chil-
dren receiving public charity from Madame Wad-
dington. She had thought some of the very old
WINTER AT THE CHATEAU
people of the village might like what was left; but
no one came except some tramps and rough-look-
ing men who had heard there was food to be had,
and they made her very nervous prowling around
the house when she was alone, her husband away
all day in the woods.
W. was amused not at all surprised said he
was quite sure we shouldn't succeed, but it was
just as well to make our own experience. We took
our bowls back sadly to the Asile, where the good
sister shook her head, saying, "Madame verra
comme c'est difficile de faire du bien dans ce pays-
ci; on ne pense qu'a s'amuser." And yet we saw
the miserable little crusts of hard bread, and some
of the boys in linen jackets over their skin, no
shirt, and looking as if they had never had a good
square meal in their lives.
I had one other curious experience, and after
that I gave up trying anything that was a novelty
or that they hadn't seen all their lives. The French
peasant is really conservative; and if left to him-
self, with no cheap political papers or socialist
orators haranguing in the cafes on the eternal topic
of the rich and the poor, he would be quite content
to go on leading the life he and his fathers have
always led would never want to destroy or change
anything.
I was staying one year with Lady Derby at
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Knowsley, in Christmas week, and I was present
one afternoon when she was making her annual
distribution of clothes to the village children. I
was much pleased with some ulsters and some red
cloaks she had for the girls. They were so pleased,
too broad smiles on their faces when they were
called up and the cloaks put on their shoulders.
They looked so warm and comfortable, when the
little band trudged home across the snow. I had
instantly visions of my school children attired in
these cloaks, climbing our steep hills in the dark
winter days.
I had a long consultation with Lady Margaret
Cecil, Lady Derby's daughter a perfect saint,
who spent all her life helping other people and
she gave me the catalogue of "Price Jones," a
well-known Welsh shop whose "specialite" was
all sorts of clothes for country people, schools, work-
men's families, etc. I ordered a large collection of
red cloaks, ulsters, and flannel shirts at a very
reasonable price, and they promised to send them
in the late summer, so that we should find them
when we went back to France.
We found two large cases when we got home,
and were quite pleased at all the nice warm cloaks
we had in store for the winter.
As soon as the first real cold days began, about
the end of November, the women used to appear
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at the chateau asking for warm clothes for the
children. The first one to come was the wife of
the "garde de Borny" a slight, pale woman, the
mother of nine small children (several of them were
members of the school at St. Quentin, who had
declined our soup, and I rather had their little
pinched, bloodless faces in my mind when I first
thought about it). She had three with her a
baby in her arms, a boy and a girl of six and
seven, both bare-legged, the boy in an old worn-out
jersey pulled over his chest, the girl in a ragged
blue and white apron, a knitted shawl over her
head and shoulders. The baby had a cloak. I
don't believe there was much on underneath, and
the mother was literally a bundle of rags, her skirt
so patched one could hardly make out the original
colour, and a wonderful cloak all frayed at the
ends and with holes in every direction. However,
they were all clean.
The baby and the boy were soon provided for.
The boy was much pleased with his flannel shirt.
Then we produced the red cloak for the girl. The
woman's face fell: "Oh, no, Madame, I couldn't
take that; my little girl couldn't wear it." I, as-
tounded: "But you don't see what it is a good,
thick cloak that will cover her all up and keep her
warm." "Oh, no, Madame, she couldn't wear
that; all the people on the road would laugh at
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
her! Cela ne se porte pas dans notre pays" (that
is not worn in our country).
I explained that I had several, and that she
would see all the other little girls with the same
cloaks; but I got only the same answer, adding
that Madame would see no child would wear such
a cloak. I was much disgusted thought the
woman was capricious; but she was perfectly
right; not a single mother, and Heaven knows
they were poor enough, would take a red cloak, and
they all had to be transformed into red flannel
petticoats. Every woman made me the same
answer: "Every one on the road would laugh at
them."
I was not much luckier with the ulsters. What
I had ordered for big girls of nine and ten would
just go on girls of six and seven. Either French
children are much stouter than English, or they
wear thicker things underneath. Here again there
was work to do all the sleeves were much too long;
my maids had to alter and shorten them, which
they did with rather a bad grace.
A most interesting operation that very cold year
was taking ice out of the big pond at the foot of the
hill. The ice was several inches thick, and beauti-
fully clear hi the middle of the pond; toward the
edges the reeds and long grass had all got frozen
into it, and it was rather difficult to get the big
WINTER AT THE CHATEAU
blocks out. We had one of the farm carts with a
pair of strong horses, and three or four men with
axes and a long pointed stick. It was so solid that
we all stood on the pond while the men were cutting
their first square hole in the middle. It was funny
to see the fish swimming about under the ice.
The whole village of course looked on, and the
children were much excited, and wanted to come
and slide on the ice, but I got nervous as the hole
got bigger and the ice at the edges thinner, so we
all adjourned to the road and watched operations
from there.
There were plenty of fish in the pond, and once
a year it was thoroughly drained and cleaned
the water drawn off, and the bottom of the pond,
which got choked up with mud and weeds, cleared
out. They made a fine haul of fish on those occa-
sions from the small pools that were left on each
side while the cleaning was going on.
Our ice-house was a godsend to all the country-
side. Whenever any one was ill, and ice was
wanted, they always came to the chateau. Our
good old doctor was not at all in the movement as
regarded fresh air and cold water, but ice he often
wanted. He was a rough, kindly old man, quite
the type of the country practitioner a type that is
also disappearing, like everything else. Every-
body knew his cabriolet (with a box at the back
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where he kept his medicine chest and instruments),
with a strong brown horse that trotted all day and
all night up and down the steep hills in all weathers.
A very small boy was always with him to hold the
horse while he made his visits.
Our doctor was very kind to the poor, and never
refused to go out at night. It was funny to see him
arrive on a cold day, enveloped in so many cloaks
and woollen comforters that it took him some time
to get out of his wraps. He had a gruff voice, and
heavy black overhanging eyebrows which frightened
people at first, but they soon found out what a
kind heart there was beneath such a rough ex-
terior, and the children loved him. He had always
a box of liquorice lozenges in his waistcoat pocket
which he distributed freely to the small ones.
The country doctors about us now are a very
different type much younger men, many foreign-
ers. There are two Russians and a Greek in some
of the small villages near us. I believe they are
very good. I met the Greek one day at the keep-
er's cottage. He was looking after the keeper's wife,
who was very ill. It seemed funny to see a Greek,
with one of those long Greek names ending in
"popolo," in a poor little French village almost
lost in the woods; but he made a very good im-
pression on me was very quiet, didn't give too
much medicine (apothecaries' bills are always such
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a terror to the poor), and spoke kindly to the wom-
an. He comes still in a cabriolet, but his Russian
colleague has an automobile indeed so have now
many of the young French doctors. I think there
is a little rivalry between the Frenchmen and the
foreigners, but the latter certainly make their way.
What is very serious now is the open warfare
between the cure and the school-master. When I
first married, the school-masters and mistresses
took their children to church, always sat with them
and kept them in order. The school-mistress
sometimes played the organ. Now they not only
don't go to church themselves, but they try to
prevent the children from going. The result is
that half the children don't go either to the church
or to the catechism.
I had a really annoying instance of this state of
things one year when we wanted to make a Christ-
mas tree and distribution of warm clothes at Mon-
tigny. a lonely little village not far from us. We
talked it over with the cure and the school-master.
They gave us the names and ages of all the chil-
dren, and were both much pleased to have a fete
in their quiet little corner. I didn't suggest a
service in the church, as I thought that might per-
haps be a difficulty for the school-master.
Two days before the fete I had a visit from the
cure of Montigny, who looked embarrassed and
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
awkward; had evidently something on his mind,
and finally blurted out that he was very sorry he
couldn't be present at the Christmas tree, as he
was obliged to go to Reims that day. I, much
surprised and decidedly put out: "You are going
to Reims the one day in the year when we come
and make a fete in your village? It is most ex-
traordinary, and surprises me extremely. The date
has been fixed for weeks, and I hold very much to
your being there."
He still persisted, looking very miserable and
uncomfortable, and finally said he was going away
on purpose, so as not to be at the school-house.
He liked the school-master very much, got on with
him perfectly; he was intelligent and taught the
children very well; but all school-masters who had
anything to do with the Church or the cure were
"malnotes." The mayor of Montigny was a
violent radical; and surely if he heard that the
cure was present at our fete in the school-house,
the school-master would be dismissed the next
day. The man was over thirty, with wife and
children; it would be difficult for him to find any
other employment; and he himself would regret
him, as his successor might be much worse and
fill the children's heads with impossible ideas.
I was really very much vexed, and told him I
would talk it over with my son and see what we
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could do. The poor little cure was much disap-
pointed, but begged me not to insist upon his
presence.
A little later the school-master arrived, also very
much embarrassed, saying practically the same
thing that he liked the cure very much. He
never talked politics, nor interfered in any way
with his parishioners. Whenever any one was ill
or in trouble, he was always the first person to
come forward and nurse and help. But he saw
him very little. If I held to the cure being present
at the Christmas tree, of course he could say
nothing ; but he would certainly be dismissed the
next day. He was married had nothing but his
salary; it would be a terrible blow to him.
I was very much perplexed, particularly as the
time was short and I couldn't get hold of the mayor.
So we called a family council Henrietta and
Francis were both at home and decided that we
must let our fete take place without the cure. The
school-master was very grateful, and said he would
take my letter to the post-office. I had to write to
the cure to tell him what we had decided, and that
he might go to Reims.
One of our great amusements in the winter was
the hunting. We knew very well the two gentle-
men, Comtes de B. and de L., who hunted the
Villers-Cotterets forest, and often rode with them.
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It was beautiful riding country stretches of grass
alongside the hard highroad, where one could have
a capital canter, the only difficulty being the quan-
tity of broad, low ditches made for the water to
run off. Once the horses knew them they took
them quite easily in their stride, but they were a
little awkward to manage at first. The riding was
very different from the Roman Campagna, which
was my only experience. There was very little to
jump; long straight alleys, with sometimes a big
tree across the road, occasionally ditches; nothing
like the very stiff fences and stone walls one meets
in the Campagna, or the slippery bits of earth
(tufa) where the horses used to slide sometimes in
the most uncomfortable way. One could gallop
for miles in the Villers-Cotterets forest with a loose
rein. It was disagreeable sometimes when we
left the broad alleys and took little paths in and
out of the trees. When the wood was thick and
the branches low, I was always afraid one would
knock me off the saddle or come into my eyes.
Some of the meets were most picturesque; some-
times in the heart of the forest at a great carrefour,
alleys stretching off in every direction, hemmed in
by long straight lines of winter trees on each side,
with a thick, high undergrowth of ferns, and a
broad-leaved plant I didn't know, which remained
green almost all winter. It was pretty to see the
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people arriving from all sides, in every description
of vehicle breaks, dog-carts, victorias, farmer's
gigs grooms with led horses, hunting men in
green or red coats, making warm bits of colour
in the rather severe landscape. The pack of
hounds, white with brown spots, big, powerful
animals, gave the valets de chiens plenty to do.
Apparently they knew all their names, as we heard
frequent admonitions to Comtesse, Diane (a very
favourite name for hunting dogs in France), La
Grise, etc., to keep quiet, and not make little ex-
cursions into the woods. As the words were usu-
ally accompanied by a cut of the whip, the dogs
understood quite well, and remained a compact
mass on the side of the road. There was the usual
following of boys, tramps, and stray bucherons
(woodmen), and when the day was fine, and the
meet not too far, a few people would come from
the neighbouring villages, or one or two carriages
from the livery stables of Villers-Cotterets, filled
with strangers who had been attracted by the show
and the prospect of spending an afternoon in the
forest. A favourite meet was at the pretty little
village of Ivors, standing just on the edge of the
forest not far from us. It consisted of one long
street, a church, and a chateau at one end. The
chateau had been a fine one, but was fast going to
ruin, uninhabited, paint and plaster falling off,
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
roof and walls remaining, and showing splendid
proportions, but had an air of decay and neglect
that was sad to see in such a fine place. The
owner never lived there; had several other places.
An agent came down occasionally, and looked
after the farm and woods. There was a fine double
court-yard and enormous "communs," a large field
only separating the kitchen garden from the forest.
A high wall in fairly good condition surrounded
the garden and small park. On a hunting morn-
ing the little place quite waked up, and it was
pretty to see the dogs and horses grouped under the
walls of the old chateau, and the hunting men in
their bright coats moving about among the peasants
and carters in their dark-blue smocks.
The start was very pretty one rode straight
into the forest, the riders spreading in all directions.
The field was never very large about thirty I
the only lady. The cor de chasse was a delightful
novelty to me, and I soon learned all the calls the
debouche, the vue and the hallali, when the poor
beast is at the last gasp. The first time I saw the
stag taken I was quite miserable. We had had a
splendid gallop. I was piloted by one of the old
stagers, who knew every inch of the forest, and
who promised I should be in at the death, if I would
follow him, "mais il faut me suivre partout, avez-
vous peur?" As he was very stout, and not par-
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WINTER AT THE CHATEAU
ticularly well mounted, and I had a capital Eng-
lish mare, I was quite sure I could pass wherever
he could. He took me through all sorts of queer
little paths, the branches sometimes so low that it
didn't seem possible to get through, but we man-
aged it. Sometimes we lost sight of the hunt
entirely, but he always guided himself by the
sound of the horns, which one hears at a great dis-
tance. Once a stag bounded across the road just
in front of us, making our horses shy violently,
but he said that was not the one we were after. I
wondered how he knew, but didn't ask any ques-
tions. Once or twice we stopped in the thick of
the woods, having apparently lost ourselves en-
tirely, not hearing a sound, and then in the dis-
tance there would be the faint sound of the horn,
enough for him to distinguish the vue, which meant
that they were still running. Suddenly, very near,
we heard the great burst of the hallali horses,
dogs, riders, all joining in; and pushing through
the brushwood we found ourselves on the edge of
a big pond, almost a lake. The stag, a fine one,
was swimming about, nearly finished, his eyes
starting out of his head, and his breast shaken with
great sobs. The whole pack of dogs was swimming
after him, the hunters all swarming down to the
edge, sounding their horns, and the master of
hounds following in a small flatboat, waiting to
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
give the coup de grace with his carbine when the
poor beast should attempt to get up the bank. It
was a sickening sight. I couldn't stand it, and re-
treated (we had all dismounted) back into the
woods, much to the surprise and disgust of my
companion, who was very proud and pleased at
having brought me in at the death among the very
first. Of course, one gets hardened, and a stag
at bay is a fine sight. In the forest they usually
make their last stand against a big tree, and sell
their lives dearly. The dogs sometimes get an
ugly blow. I was really very glad always when the
stag got away. I had all the pleasure and excite-
ment of the hunt without having my feelings
lacerated at the end of the day. The sound of the
horns and the unwonted stir in the country had
brought out all the neighbourhood, and the inhab-
itants of the little village, including the cure and
the chatelaine of the small chateau near, soon ap-
peared upon the scene. The cure, a nice, kindly
faced old man, with white hair and florid com-
plexion, was much interested in all the details of
the hunt. It seems the stag is often taken in
these ponds, les etangs de la ramee, which are quite
a feature in the country, and one of the sights of
the Villers-Cotterets forest, where strangers are
always brought. They are very picturesque; the
trees slope down to the edge of the ponds, and
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WINTER AT THE CHATEAU
when the bright autumn foliage is reflected in the
water the effect is quite charming.
Mme. de M., the chatelaine, was the type of the
grande dame Fran9aise, fine, clear-cut features,
black eyes, and perfectly white hair, very well
arranged. She was no longer young, but walked
with a quick, light step, a cane in her hand. She,
too, was much interested, such an influx of people,
horses, dogs, and carriages (for in some mysterious
way the various vehicles always seemed to find
their way to the finish). It was an event in the
quiet little village. She admired my mare very
much, which instantly won my affections. She
asked us to come back with her to the chateau it
was only about a quarter of an hour's walk to
have some refreshment after our long day; so I
held up my skirt as well as I could, and we walked
along together. The chateau is not very large,
standing close to the road in a small park, really
more of a manor house than a chateau. She took
us into the drawing-room just as stiff and bare
as all the others I had seen, a polished parquet
floor, straight-backed, hard chairs against the
wall (the old lady herself looked as if she had sat
up straight on a hard chair all her life). In the
middle of the room was an enormous palm-tree
going straight up to the ceiling. She said it had
been there for years and always remained when she
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went to Paris in the spring. She was a widow,
lived alone in the chateau with the old servants.
Her daughter and grandchildren came occasion-
ally to stay with her. She gave us wine and cake,
and was most agreeable. I saw her often after-
ward, both in the country and Paris, and loved to
hear her talk. She had remained absolutely an-
cien regime, couldn't understand modern life and
ways at all. One of the things that shocked her
beyond words was to see her granddaughters and
their young friends playing tennis with young men
in flannels. In her day a young man in bras de
chemise would have been ashamed to appear be-
fore ladies in such attire. We didn't stay very
long that day, as we were far from home, and the
afternoon was shortening fast. The retraite was
sometimes long when we had miles of hard road
before us, until we arrived at the farm or village
where the carriage was waiting. When we could
walk our horses it was bearable, but sometimes
when they broke into a jog-trot, which nothing ap-
parently could make them change, it was very
fatiguing after a long day.
Sometimes, when we had people staying with us,
we followed the hunt in the carriage. We put one
of the keepers of the Villers-Cotterets forest on the
box, and it was wonderful how much we could see.
The meet was always amusing, but when once the
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hunt had moved off, and the last stragglers disap-
peared in the forest, it didn't seem as if there was
any possibility of catching them; and sometimes
we would drive in a perfectly opposite direction,
but the old keeper knew all about the stags and
their haunts when they would break out and cross
the road, and when they would double and go
back into the woods. We were waiting one day in
the heart of the forest, at one of the carrefours,
miles away apparently from everything, and an
absolute stillness around us. Suddenly there came
a rush and noise of galloping horses, baying hounds
and horns, and a flash of red and green coats
dashed by, disappearing in an instant in the thick
woods before we had time to realize what it was.
It was over in a moment seemed an hallucina-
tion. We saw and heard nothing more, and the
same intense stillness surrounded us. We had the
same sight, the stag taken in the water, some years
later, when we were alone at the chateau. Mme.
A. was dead, and her husband had gone to Paris
to live. We were sitting in the gallery one day
after breakfast, finishing our coffee, and making
plans for the day, when suddenly we saw red spots
and moving figures in the distance, on the hills
opposite, across the canal. Before we had time to
get glasses and see what was happening, the chil-
dren came rushing in to say the hunt was in the
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woods opposite, the horns sounding the hallali,
and the stag probably in the canal. With the
glasses we made out the riders quite distinctly, and
soon heard faint echoes of the horn. We all made
a rush for hats and coats, and started off to the
canal. We had to go down a steep, slippery path
which was always muddy in all weathers, and
across a rather rickety narrow plank, also very
slippery. As we got nearer, we heard the horns
very well, and the dogs yelping. By the time we
got to the bridge, which was open to let a barge go
through, everything had disappeared horses, dogs,
followers, and not a sound of horn or hoof. One
solitary horseman only, who had evidently lost the
hunt and didn't know which way to go. We lin-
gered a little, much disgusted, but still hoping we
might see something, when suddenly we heard
again distant sounds of horns and yelping dogs.
The man on the other side waved his cap wildly,
pointed to the woods, and started off full gallop.
In a few minutes the hill slope was alive with
hunters coming up from all sides. We were nearly
mad with impatience, but couldn't swim across the
canal, the bridge was still open, the barge lumber-
ing through. The children with their Fraulein and
some of the party crossed a little lower down on a
crazy little plank, which I certainly shouldn't have
dared attempt, and at last the bargeman took pity
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WINTER AT THE CHATEAU
on us and put us across. We raced along the bank
as fast as we could, but the canal turns a great
deal, and a bend prevented our seeing the stag,
with the hounds at his heels, galloping down the
slope and finally jumping into the canal, just where
it widens out and makes a sort of lake between our
hamlet of Bourneville and Marolles. It was a
pretty sight, all the hunters dismounted, walking
along the edge of the water, sounding their hallali,
the entire population of Bourneville and Marolles
and all our household arriving in hot haste, and
groups of led horses and valets de chiens in their
green coats half-way up the slope. The stag, a
very fine one, was swimming round and round,
every now and then making an effort to get up the
bank, and falling back heavily he was nearly
done, half his body sinking in the water, and his
great eyes looking around to see if any one would
help him. I went back to the barge (they had
stayed, too, to see the sight), and the woman, a
nice, clean, motherly body with two babies clinging
to her, was much excited over the cruelty of the
thing.
"Madame trouve que c'est bien de tourmenter
une pauvre bete qui ne fait de mal a personne,
pour s'amuser?" Madame found that rather
difficult to answer, and turned the conversa-
tion to her life on the barge. The minute little
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cabin looked clean, with several pots of red gera-
niums, clean muslin curtains, a canary bird, and a
nondescript sort of dog, who, she told me, was
very useful, taking care of the children and keeping
them from falling into the water when she was
obliged to leave them on the boat while she went
on shore to get her provisions. I asked: "How
does he keep them from falling into the water
does he take hold of their clothes ?" "No, I leave
them in the cabin, when I am obliged to go ashore,
and he stands at the door and barks and won't let
them come out." While I was talking to her I
heard a shot, and realised that the poor stag had
been finished at last. It was early in the afternoon
three o'clock, and I suggested that the whole
chasse should adjourn to the chateau for gouter.
This they promptly accepted, and started off to
find their horses. Then I had some misgivings as
to what I could give them for gouter. We were a
small party, mostly women and children. W. was
away, and I thought that probably the chef, who
was a sportsman as well as a cook, was shooting
(he had hired a small chasse not far from us); I
had told him there was nothing until dinner. I
had visions of twenty or thirty hungry men and an
ordinary tea-table, with some thin bread and but-
ter, a pot of damson jam, and some sables, so I
sent off Francis's tutor, the stable-boy, and the
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gardener's boy to the chateau as fast as their legs
could carry them, to find somebody, anybody, to
prepare us as much food as they could, and to
sacrifice the dinner at once, to make sandwiches
tea and chocolate, of course, were easily provided.
We all started back to the house up the steep,
muddy path, some of the men with us leading their
horses, some riding round by Marolles to give
orders to the breaks and various carriages to come
to the chateau. The big gates were open, Hubert
there to arrange at once for the accommodation of
so many horses and equipages, and the billiard and
dining-rooms, with great wood-fires, looking most
comfortable. The chasseurs begged not to come
into the drawing-room, as they were covered with
mud, so they brushed off what they could in the
hall, and we went at once to the gouter. It was
funny to see our quiet dining-room invaded by
such a crowd of men, some red-coated, some green,
all with breeches and high muddy boots. The
master of hounds, M. Menier, proposed to make
the curee on the lawn after tea, which I was de-
lighted to accept. We had an English cousin
staying with us who knew all about hunting in her
own country, but had never seen a French chasse
a courre, and she was most keen about it. The
gouter was very creditable. It seems that they
had just caught the chef, who had been attracted
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by the unusual sounds and bustle on the hillside,
and who had also come down to see the show. He
promptly grasped the situation, hurried back to
the house, and produced beef and mayonnaise
sandwiches, and a splendid savarin with whipped
cream in the middle (so we naturally didn't have
any dessert but nobody minded), tea, chocolate,
and whiskey, of course. As soon as it began to get
dark we all adjourned to the lawn. All the car-
riages, the big breaks with four horses, various
lighter vehicles, grooms and led horses were massed
at the top of the lawn, just where it rises slightly to
meet the woods. A little lower down was Hubert,
the huntsman (a cousin of our coachman, Hubert,
who was very pleased to do the honours of his
stable-yard), with one or two valets de chiens, the
pack of dogs, and a great whip, which was very
necessary to keep the pack back until he allowed
them to spring upon the carcass of the stag. He
managed them beautifully. Two men held up the
stag the head had already been taken off; it was
a fine one, with broad, high antlers, a dix cors.
Twice Hubert led his pack up, all yelping and their
eyes starting out of their heads, and twice drove
them back, but the third time he let them spring
on the carcass. It was an ugly sight, the compact
mass of dogs, all snarling and struggling, noses
down and tails up. In a few minutes nothing was
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Some red-poated, some green, all \vi:h breeches and high muddy hoots.
WINTER AT THE CHATEAU
left of the poor beast but bones, and not many of
them. Violet had les honneurs du pied (the hoof
of one of the hind legs of the stag), which is equiva-
lent to the "brush" one gives in fox-hunting. She
thanked M. M., the master of hounds, very
prettily and said she would have it arranged and
hang it up in the hall of her English home, in
remembrance of a lovely winter afternoon, and her
first experience of what still remains of the old
French venerie. The horns sounded again the
curee and the depart, and the whole company
gradually dispersed, making quite a cortege as they
moved down the avenue, horses and riders disap-
pearing in the gray mist that was creeping up from
the canal, and the noise of wheels and hoofs dying
away in the distance.
We were pottering about in our woods one day,
waiting for Labbez (the keeper) to come and
decide about some trees that must be cut down,
when a most miserable group emerged from one
of the side alleys and slipped by so quickly and
quietly that we couldn't speak to them. A woman
past middle age, lame, unclothed really neither
shoes nor stockings, not even a chemise two sacks
of coarse stuff, one tied around her waist half
covering her bare legs, one over her shoulders;
two children with her, a big overgrown girl of about
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twelve, equally without clothing, an old black
bodice gaping open over her bare skin, held to-
gether by one button, a short skirt so dirty and
torn that one wondered what kept it on, no shoes
nor stockings, black hair falling straight down over
her forehead and eyes; the boy, about six, in a
dirty apron, also over his bare skin. I was horri-
fied, tried to make them turn and speak to me,
but they disappeared under the brushwood as
quickly as they could, "evidently up to no good,"
said W. In a few moments the keeper appeared,
red and breathless, having been running after
poachers a woman the worst of the lot. We de-
scribed the party we had just seen, and he was
wildly excited, wanted to start again in pursuit,
said they were just the ones he was looking for.
The woman belonged to a band of poachers and
vagabonds they could not get hold of. They could
trace her progress sometimes by the blood on the
grass where the thorns and sharp stones had torn
her feet. It seems they were quite a band, living
anywhere in the woods, in old charcoal-burners'
huts or under the trees, never staying two nights in
the same place. There are women, and children,
and babies, who appear and disappear, in the most
extraordinary manner. Many of them have been
condemned, and have had two weeks or a month
of prison. One family is employed by one of the
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WINTER AT THE CHATEAU
small farmers near, who lets them live in a tumble-
down hut in the midst of his woods, and that is
their centre. We passed by there two or three days
later, when we were riding across the fields, and
anything so miserable I never saw ; the house half
falling to pieces, no panes of glass, dirty rags
stuffed in the windows, no door at all, bundles of
dirty straw inside, a pond of filthy water at one
side of the house, two or three dirty children play-
ing in it, and inside at the opening, where the door
should have been, the same lame woman in her two
sacks. She glowered at us, standing defiantly at
the opening to prevent our going in, in case we
had any such intention. I suppose she had various
rabbits and hares hung up inside she couldn't have
accounted for. There was no other habitation
anywhere near; no cart or vehicle of any kind
could have got there. We followed a narrow path,
hardly visible in the long grass, and the horses
had to pick their way one couldn't imagine a
more convenient trysting-place for vagabonds and
tramps. It seems incredible that such things
should go on at our doors, so to speak, but it is
very difficult to get at them. Our keepers and M.
de M., whose property touches ours, have had
various members of the gang arrested, but they
always begin again. The promiscuity of living is
something awful, girls and young men squatting
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and sleeping in the same room on heaps of dirty
rags. There have been some arrests for infanticide,
when a baby's appearance and disappearance was
too flagrant, but the girls don't care. They do
their time of prison, come out quite untamed by
prison discipline, and begin again their wild, free
life. One doesn't quite understand the farmer
who gives any shelter to such a bad lot, but I
fancy there is a tacit understanding that his hares
and rabbits must be left unmolested.
It is amusing to see the keepers when they
suspect poachers are in their woods. When the
leaves are off they can see at a great distance, and
with their keen, trained eyes make out quite well
when a moving object is a hare, or a roebuck, or
a person on all fours, creeping stealthily along.
They have powerful glasses, too, which help them
very much. They, too, have their various tricks,
like the poachers. As the gun-barrel is seen at a
great distance when the sun strikes it, they cover
it with a green stuff that takes the general tint of
the leaves and the woods, and post themselves,
half hidden in the bushes, near some of the quar-
ries, where the poachers generally come. Then
they give a gun to an under-strapper, telling him
to stand in some prominent part of the woods, his
gun well in sight. That, of course, the poachers
see at once, so they make straight for the other
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side, and often fall upon the keepers who are lying
in wait for them. As a general rule, they don't
make much resistance, as they know the keepers
will shoot not to kill them, but a shot in the
ankle or leg that will disable them for some time.
I had rather a weakness for one poaching family.
The man was young, good-looking, and I don't
really believe a bad lot, but he had been unfortu-
nate, had naturally a high temper, and couldn't
stand being howled at and sworn at when things
didn't go exactly as the patron wanted; conse-
quently he never stayed in any place, tried to get
some other work, but was only fit for the woods,
where he knew every tree and root and the habits
and haunts of all the animals. He had a pretty
young wife and two children, who had also lived
in the woods all their lives, and could do nothing
else. The wife came to see me one day to ask for
some clothes for herself and the children, which I
gave, of course, and then tried mildly to speak to
her about her husband, who spent half his time in
prison, and was so sullen and scowling when he
came out that everybody gave him a wide berth.
The poor thing burst into a passion of tears and
incoherent defence of her husband. Everybody
had been so hard with him. When he had done
his best, been up all night looking after the game,
and then was rated and sworn at by his master
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before every one because un des Parisiens didn't
know what to do with a gun when he had one in
his hand, and couldn't shoot a hare that came and
sat down in front of him, it was impossible not to
answer un peu vivement peut-etre, and it was hard
to be discharged at once without a chance of
finding anything else, etc., and at last winding up
with the admission that he did take hares and
rabbits occasionally; but when there was nothing
to eat in the house and the children were crying
with hunger, what was he to do ? Madame would
never have known or missed the rabbits, and after
all, le Bon Dieu made them for everybody. I
tried to persuade W. to take him as a workman in
the woods, with the hope of getting back as under-
keeper, but he would not hear of it, said the man
was perfectly unruly and violent-tempered, and
would demoralize all the rest. They remained
some time in the country, and the woman came
sometimes to see me, but she had grown hard,
evidently thought I could have done something for
her husband, and couldn't understand that as
long as he went on snaring game no one would
have anything to do with him always repeating
the same thing, that a Bon Dieu had made the
animals pour tout le monde. Of course it must
be an awful temptation for a man who has starving
children at home, and who knows that he has only
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WINTER AT THE CHATEAU
to walk a few yards in the woods to find rabbits in
plenty; and one can understand the feeling that
le Bon Dieu provided food for all his children, and
didn't mean some to starve, while others lived on
the fat of the land.
It was a long time before I could get accus-
tomed to seeing women work in the fields (which
I had never seen in America) . In the cold autumn
days, when they were picking the betterave (a big
beet root) that is used to make sugar in France, it
made me quite miserable to see them. Bending
all day over the long rows of beets, which required
quite an effort to pull out of the hard earth, their
hands red and chapped, sometimes a cold wind
whistling over the fields that no warm garment
could keep out, and they never had any really
warm garment. We met an old woman one day
quite far from any habitation, who was toiling
home, dragging her feet, in wretched, half-worn
shoes, over the muddy country roads, who stopped
and asked us if we hadn't a warm petticoat to give
her. She knew me, called me by name, and said
she lived in the little hamlet near the chateau.
She looked miserably cold and tired. I asked
where she came from, and what she had been
doing all day. "Scaring the crows in M. A.'s
fields," was the answer. "What does your work
consist of?" I asked. "Oh, I just sit there and
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make a noise beat the top of an old tin kettle
with sticks and shake a bit of red stuff in the air."
Poor old woman, she looked half paralyzed with
cold and fatigue, and I was really almost ashamed
to be seated so warmly and comfortably in the
carriage, well wrapped up in furs and rugs, and
should have quite understood if she had poured
out a torrent of abuse. It must rouse such bitter
and angry feeling when these poor creatures, half
frozen and half starved, see carriages rolling past
with every appliance of wealth and luxury. I
suppose what saves us is that they are so accus-
tomed to their lives, the long days of hard work,
the wretched, sordid homes, the insufficient meals,
the quantities of children clamouring for food and
warmth. Their parents and grandparents have
lived the same lives, and anything else would seem
as unattainable as the moon, or some fairy tale.
There has been one enormous change in all the
little cottages the petroleum lamp. All have got
one petroleum is cheap and gives much more
light and heat than the old-fashioned oil lamp.
In the long winter afternoons, when one must have
light for work of any kind, the petroleum lamp is
a godsend. We often noticed the difference com-
ing home late. The smallest hamlets looked quite
cheerful with the bright lights shining through the
cracks and windows. I can't speak much from
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Peasant women.
WINTER AT THE CHATEAU
personal experience of the inside of the cottages
I was never much given to visiting among the poor.
I suppose I did not take it in the right spirit, but I
could never see the poetry, the beautiful, patient
lives, the resignation to their humble lot. I only
saw the dirt, and smelt all the bad smells, and
heard how bad most of the young ones were to all
the poor old people. " Cela mange comme quatre,
et cela n'est plus bon a rien," I heard one woman
remark casually to her poor old father sitting hud-
dled up in a heap near the fire. I don't know,
either, whether they liked to have us come. What
suited them best was to send the children to the
chateau. They always got a meal and a warm
jacket and petticoat.
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TT7E were very particular about attending all
important ceremonies at La Ferte, as we
rarely went to church there except on great occa-
sions. We had our service regularly at the chateau
every Sunday morning. All the servants, except
ours, were Protestants, Swiss generally, and very
respectable they looked all the women in black
dresses and white caps when they assembled in
M. A.'s library, sitting on cane chairs near the
door.
Some, in fact most, Protestants in France attach
enormous importance to having all their household
Protestant. A friend of mine, a Protestant, having
tea with me one day in Paris was rather pleased
with the bread or little " croissants," and asked me
where they came from. I said I didn't know, but
would ask the butler. That rather surprised her.
Then she said, "Your baker of course is a Protes-
tant." That I didn't know either, and, what was
much worse in her eyes, I didn't care. She was
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
quite distressed, gave me the address of an excellent
Swiss Protestant baker and begged me to sever all
connection with the Catholic at once. I asked her
if she really thought dangerous papist ideas were
kneaded in with the bread, but she would not
listen to my mild "persiflage," and went away
rather anxious about my spiritual welfare.
We went always to the church at La Ferte for
the fete of St. Cecile, as the Fanfare played in the
church on that day. The Fanfare was a very im-
portant body. Nearly all the prominent citizens
of La Ferte, who had any idea of music, were
members the butcher, the baker, the coiffeur,
etc. The Mayor was president and walked at
the head of the procession when they filed into
the church. I was "Presidente d'Honneur" and
always wore my badge pinned conspicuously on
my coat. It was a great day for the little town.
Weeks before the fete we used to hear all about it
from the coiffeur when he came to the chateau to
shave the gentlemen. He played the big drum
and thought the success of the whole thing
depended on his performance. He proposed to
bring his instrument one morning and play his
part for us. We were very careful to be well
dressed on that day and discarded the short serge
skirts we generally wore. All the La Ferte ladies,
particularly the wives and sisters of the perform-
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
ers, put on their best clothes, and their feelings
would have been hurt if we had not done the same.
In fact it was a little difficult to dress up to the
occasion. The older women all had jet and lace
on their dresses, with long trailing skirts, and the
younger ones, even children, had wonderful hats
with feathers one or two long white ones.
It was a pretty, animated sight as we arrived.
All along the road we had met bands of people
hurrying on to the town the children with clean
faces and pinafores, the men with white shirts, and
even the old grandmothers their shawls on their
shoulders and their turbans starched stiff were
hobbling along with their sticks, anxious to arrive.
We heard sounds of music as we got to the church
the procession was evidently approaching. The
big doors were wide open, a great many people
already inside. We looked straight down the nave
to the far end where the high altar, all flowers and
candles, made a bright spot of colour. Red
draperies and banners were hanging from the
columns vases and wreaths of flowers at the foot
of the statues of the saints; chairs and music-
stands in the chancel. We went at once to our
places. The cure, with his choir boys in their
little short white soutanes, red petticoats and red
shoes, was just coming out of the sacristy and the
procession was appearing at the bottom of the
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
church. First came the Mayor in a dress coat and
white cravat the "Adjoint" and one of the mu-
nicipal council just behind, then the banner rather
a heavy one, four men carried it. After that the
"pompiers," all in uniform, each man carrying his
instrument; they didn't play as they came up the
aisle, stopped their music at the door; but when
they did begin I don't know exactly at what
moment of the mass it was something appalling.
The first piece was a military march, executed
with all the artistic conviction and patriotic ardour
of their young lungs (they were mostly young men) .
We were at the top of the church, very near the
performers, and the first bursts of trumpets and
bugles made one jump. They played several
times. It didn't sound too badly at the "Eleva-
tion" when they had chosen rather a soft (com-
paratively) simple melody. The cure preached a
very pretty, short sermon, telling them about Saint
Cecile, the delicately nurtured young Roman who
was not afraid to face martyrdom and death for
the sake of her religion. The men listened most
attentively and seemed much interested when he
told them how he had seen in Rome the church of
St. Cecile built over the ruin of the saint's house
the sacristy just over her bath-room. I asked him
how he could reconcile it to his conscience to speak
of the melodious sounds that accompanied the
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prayers of the faithful, but he said one must look
sometimes at the intention more than at the result.
There was a certain harmony among the men
when they were practising and preparing their
music for the church, and as long as they held to
coming and gave up their evenings to practising,
instead of spending them in the wine shops, we
must do all we could to encourage them.
The procession went out in the same order
halted at the church door and then W. made them
a nice little speech, saying he was pleased to see
how numerous they were and how much improved
they would certainly take an honourable place
in the concours de fanfares of the department.
They escorted the Mayor back to his house playing
their march and wound up with a copious dejeuner
at the "Sauvage." Either the Mayor or the "Ad-
joint" always went to the banquet. W. gave the
champagne, but abstained from the feast.
They really did improve as they went on. They
were able to get better instruments and were
stimulated by rival fanfares in the neighbourhood.
They were very anxious to come and play at the
chateau, and we promised they should whenever
a fitting occasion should present itself.
We had a visit from the Staals one year. The
Baron de Staal was Russian Ambassador in Eng-
land, and we had been colleagues there for many
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years. We asked the Fanfare to come one Sunday
afternoon while they were there. We had a little
difficulty over the Russian National Hymn, which
they, naturally, wanted to play. The Chef de Fan-
fare came to see me one day and we looked over the
music together. I had it only for the piano, but I
explained the tempo and repetitions to him and he
arranged it very well for his men. They made quite
an imposing entrance. Half the population of La
Ferte escorted them (all much excited by the idea
of seeing the Russian Ambassador), and they were
reinforced by the two villages they passed through.
We waited for them in the gallery doors and win-
dows open. They played the spirited French
march "Sambre et Meuse" as they came up the
avenue. It sounded quite fine in the open air.
They halted and saluted quite in military style as
soon as they came in front of the gallery stopped
their march and began immediately the Russian
Hymn, playing it very well.
They were much applauded, we in the gallery
giving the signal and their friends on the lawn
joining in enthusiastically. They were a motley
crowd over a hundred I should think ranging
from the municipal councillor of La Ferte, in his
high hat and black cloth Sunday coat, to the hump-
backed daughter of the village carpenter and the
idiot boy who lived in a cave on the road and
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frightened the children out of their wits by running
out and making faces at them whenever they
passed. They played three or four times, then
W. called up one or two of the principal performers
and presented them to the Staals. Mme. de Staal
spoke to them very prettily, thanked them for
playing the Russian Hymn and said she would like
to hear the "Sambre et Meuse" again. That, of
course, delighted them and they marched off to the
strains of their favourite tune. About half-way
down the avenue we heard a few cries of "Vive la
Russie," and then came a burst of cheers.
Our dinner was rather pleasant that evening.
We had the Prefet, M. Sebline; Senator of the
Aisne, Jusserand, present Ambassador to Wash-
ington; Mme. Thenard, of the Comedie Fran9aise,
and several young people. Jusserand is always a
brilliant talker so easy no pose of any kind, and
Sebline was interesting, telling about all sorts of
old customs in the country.
Though we were so near Paris, hardly two hours
by the express, the people had remained extraor-
dinarily primitive. There were no manufactur-
ing towns anywhere near us, nothing but big farms,
forests and small far-apart villages. The modern
socialist-radical ideas were penetrating very slowly
into the heads of the people they were quite con-
tent to be humble tillers of the soil, as their fathers
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had been before them. The men had worked all
their lives on the farms, the women, too; begin-
ning quite young, taking care of cows and geese,
picking beet-root, etc.
What absolutely changed the men was the
three years' military service. After knocking
about in garrison towns, living with a great many
people always, having all sorts of amusements
easily at hand and a certain independence, once
the service of the day was over, they found the
dull regular routine of the farm very irksome. In
the summer it was well enough harvest-time was
gay, every one in the fields, but in the short, cold
winter days, with the frozen ground making all the
work doubly hard, just enough food and no dis-
traction of any kind but a pipe in the kitchen after
supper, the young men grew terribly restive and
discontented. Very few of them remain, and the
old traditions of big farms handed down from
father to son for three or four generations are
rapidly disappearing. After dinner we had music
and some charming recitations by Mme. Thenard.
Her first one was a comic monologue which always
had the wildest success in London, " Je suis veuve,"
beginning it with a ringing peal of laughter which
was curiously contagious every one in the room
joined in. I like her better in some of her serious
things. When she said "le bon gite" and "le
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petit clairon," by Paul Deroulede, in her beautiful
deep voice, I had a decided choke in my throat.
We often had music at the chateau. Many of our
artist friends came down glad to have two or three
days rest in the quiet old house. We had an amus-
ing experience once with the young organist from
La Ferte almost turned his hair gray. He had
taught himself entirely and managed his old organ
very well. He had heard vaguely of Wagner and
we had always promised him we would try and
play some of his music with two pianos eight
hands. Four hands are really not enough for such
complicated music. Mile. Dubois, premier prix
du conservatoire a beautiful musician was stay-
ing with us one year and we arranged a concert for
one evening, asking the organist to come to dinner.
\/ The poor man was rather terrified at dining at the
chateau had evidently taken great pains with his
dress (a bright pink satin cravat was rather strik-
ing) and thanked the butler most gratefully every
time he handed him a dish "Je vous remercie
beaucoup, Monsieur." We had our two grand
pianos and were going to play the overture of Tann-
hauser, one of the simplest and most melodious
of Wagner's compositions. The performers were
Francis and I, Mile. Dubois and the organist. It
was a little difficult to arrange who he should play
with. He was very nervous at the idea of playing
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
with Mile. Dubois rather frightened of me and in
absolute terror at the idea of playing before W.
Finally it was decided that he and I should take
the second piano he playing the bass. It was
really funny to see him ; his eyes were fixed on the
music and he counted audibly and breathlessly all
the time, and I heard him muttering occasionally
to himself, "Non ce n'est pas possible," "Non ce
n'est pas cela."
I must say that the Walpurgis Night for a person
playing at sight and unaccustomed to Wagner's
music is an ordeal however, he acquitted himself
extremely well and we got through our performance
triumphantly, but great drops of perspiration were
on his forehead. W. was very nice to him and
Mile. Dubois quite charming, encouraging him
very much. Still I don't think his evening at the
chateau was one of unmixed pleasure, and I am
sure he was glad to have that overture behind
him.
We saw our neighbours very rarely; occasionally
some men came to breakfast. The sous-prefet,
one or two of the big farmers or some local swells
who wanted to talk politics to W. One frequent
visitor was an architect from Chateau-Thierry, who
had built W.'s farm. He was an enormous man,
very stout and red, always attired in shiny black
broadcloth. He was a very shrewd specimen,
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very well up in all that went on in the country and
very useful to W. He had a fine appetite, always
tucking his napkin carefully under his chin when
he sat down to table. He talked a great deal one
day about his son, who had a good tenor voice and
had just got an engagement at the Opera Comique.
Said he would like us to hear him sing might he
bring him some day to breakfast ?
He came back two or three weeks later with the
young man, who was a great improvement upon
his father. The Paris boulevards and the coulisses
of the opera had quite modified the young provin-
cial. He talked a good deal at table, was naturally
much pleased to have got into the Opera Comique.
As it is a "theatre subventionne" (government
theatre), he considered himself a sort of official
functionary. After breakfast he asked us if we
would like to hear him sing sat down to the piano,
accompanying himself very simply and easily and
sang extremely well. I was much astonished and
Mme. A. was delighted, especially when he sang
some old-fashioned songs from the "Dame Blanche"
and the "Domino Noir." The old father was en-
chanted, a broad smile on his face. He confided
to W. that he had hoped his son would walk in
his footsteps and content himself with a modest
position as architect in the country, but after six
months in Paris where he had sent him to learn his
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A visit at the chateau.
CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
profession his ideas had completely changed and
he would not hear of vegetating in the country.
We had, too, sometimes a doctor from one of
the neighbouring villages. He had married an
Englishwoman. They had a nice house and
garden and he often had English boys over in the
summer to learn French. He brought them occa-
sionally to us for tea and tennis, begging us not to
speak English to them. But that was rather dif-
ficult, with the English terms at tennis horses and
dogs always spoken to in English. One could not
speak French to a fox-terrier bred in Oxfordshire.
Another pretty, simple fete was the Blessing of
the Flag given by Francis to the Pompiers of Mon-
tigny, our little village in the woods just above the
chateau. My husband had always promised them
a flag, but he died before their society was formed.
Three years after his death, when we were living
in the small place which now belongs to my son, a
deputation arrived from Montigny one Sunday
afternoon to ask if Francis would give the flag his
father had promised. This of course he was de-
lighted to do. He knew all the men and they all
knew him had seen him since he was a baby
all of them had worked in his father's woods, and
two or three of the older ones had taken care of
him and his gun when he first began to shoot.
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His father gave him a gun when he was twelve
years old had it made at Purdy's in London, a
reduced model of his own. No one is allowed to
shoot in France till he is sixteen years old and then
must have his "permis de chasse" duly signed by
the Mayor. So it was rather difficult to get Francis
and his gun into the woods once there they were
safe. Nothing would have induced him to let any
of the men carry it. He walked beside the keeper
with his gun over his shoulder just like him; they
did meet two gendarmes one day and quickly the
gun was given to some one else. I think the gen-
darmes quite realised the situation (Labbey, the
keeper, said they knew all about it), but they were
friends of the family, W.'s appointment, probably,
and asked no questions.
It was necessary of course to consult the local
authorities before deciding such an important ques-
tion as the presentation of a flag to the Pompiers.
Francis went over two or three days later and
interviewed the cure, the Mayor and the school-
master, found out where the flag must be ordered
in Paris and decided the day a fortnight later, a
Sunday, of course. The function was to consist
of a service and sermon at the church and a
"vin d'honneur" offered by the Pompiers at the
Mairie, which they hoped Madame Waddington
would grace by her presence.
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
The flag was duly ordered, sent direct to Mon-
tigny and everything was ready on the appointed
day. We had fine weather, a bright, cold Novem-
ber afternoon; the country looked beautiful, all
the trees red and yellow, a black line of pines in the
middle of the woods. The long straggling village
street, ending at the church on the top of the hill,
was full of people; all the children in the middle
of the road, their mothers dashing after them when
they heard the horn of the auto.
We were quite a large party, as the house was
full, and we brought all our guests with us, includ-
ing an American cousin, who was much interested
in the local festivities. The Pompiers were drawn
up in the court-yard of the Mairie, their beau-
tiful new flag well to the front. Almost all were in
uniform, and those who had not yet been able to
get one wore a clean white shirt and the Pompier's
red belt. There was a cheer and a broad smile
on all their faces when we drove up. Francis
got out, as he was to head the procession with the
Mayor and the cure. We went on to the church
and stationed ourselves on the steps of the Infant
School to see the cortege arrive.
It was quite a pretty sight as it wound up the
hill: first the banner of blue silk with gold cords,
which was held proudly aloft by two tall young fel-
lows, then Francis walking between the cure and
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the Mayor, the Pompiers immediately behind them,
then the Municipal Council, the usual escort of
children that always turns out on such occasions
bringing up the rear. We let the procession pass
into the church and then took our places; a front
pew was reserved for the family, but Francis and
I sat on two arm-chairs inside the chancel, just
behind the Pompiers.
The fine old church, which is rather large for
such a small village, was crowded; they told me
many people had come from the neighbouring
hamlets. The Montigny people had done their
best to beautify their church; there were a few
plants and flowers and some banners and draperies
church property, which always figured upon any
great occasion. They told us with pride that the
school-master had arranged the music. I suppose
the poor man did what he could with the material
he had, but the result was something awful. The
chorister, a very old man, a hundred I should
think, played the harmonium, which was as old
as he was. It groaned and wheezed and at times
stopped altogether. He started the cantique with
a thin quavering voice which was then taken up
by the school-children, particularly the boys who
roared with juvenile patriotism and energy each
time they repeated the last line, "pour notre
drapeau, pour notre patrie."
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The sermon was very good short and simple.
It was preached by the Doyen of Neuilly a tall,
strong, broad-shouldered man who would have
seemed more at home in a dragoon's uniform than
in the soutane. But he knew his business well,
had a fine voice and very good delivery; his perora-
tion and appeal to the men to "remember always
that the flag was the symbol of obedience, of loyalty,
of devotion, to their country and their God," was
really very fine. I almost expected to hear cheers.
The French are very emotional, and respond
instantly to any allusion to country or flag. The
uniform (even the Pompier's) has an enormous
prestige. Then came the benediction, the flag
held high over the kneeling congregation, and the
ceremony was ended.
We stopped a few moments after the service to
let the procession pass out and also to thank the
preacher and one or two cures who had assisted
on the occasion; they did not come to the "vin
d'honneur."
We walked down to the Mairie, where the Mayor
and his Adjoint were waiting for us; they conducted
us to a large room upstairs where there was a table
with champagne bottles, glasses and a big brioche.
As soon as we had taken our places at the top of the
room, the Pompiers and Municipal Council trouped
in and Francis made quite a pretty little speech.
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It was the first time I had ever heard him speak in
public; he did it very well, was not at all shy.
Then there was a pause the Mayor filled a glass of
champagne, handed it to me, took one himself and
we "trinque'd" solemnly. Still there seemed a
little hitch, no one else took any and there was an
air of expectancy. I made a sign to the school-
master, who was also the Adjoint, and he explained
to me in a low voice that he thought it would give
great pleasure if I would shake hands and trinquer
with all the Pompiers. So I asked to have all the
glasses filled and made the round, shaking hands
with every one.
Some of them were very shy, could hardly make
up their minds to put out their big, rough hands;
some of the old ones were very talkative: "C'est
moi qui suis Jacques, Madame, j'ai nettoye le
premier fusil de M. Francis." Another in a great
hurry to get to me: "C'est moi qui ai remasse le
premier lievre de M. Francis," etc. I remember
the "premier lievre" quite well; Francis carried
it home himself and dashed into his father's
study swinging the poor beast by its long ears, the
blood dripping from a hole in its neck. It was
difficult to scold, the child was so enchanted,
even old Ferdinand did not grumble but came
to the rescue at once with brushes and "savon
noir."
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
The wine had loosened the tongues and made
every one more at ease. I asked that Hubert (our
coachman who had been in W.'s service for thirty-
one years) should be invited to come up and have
a glass of champagne. He knew everybody, hav-
ing driven W. about in his dog-cart all over the
country. He was delighted to take part in the
fete and made his little speech, saying he had seen
Monsieur Francis when he was only a few hours old,
and that he had grown since which joke was re-
ceived with great applause.
Then some of the young men went off with
Francis to look at the automobile, a great novelty
at that time. We went out and talked to the
women who were waiting in the street. Every one
looked smiling and pleased to see us; the men all
formed again in procession and escorted us to the
end of the street, the whole village naturally fol-
lowing. They stopped at the foot of the hill,
giving us a ringing cheer as we left.
I never but once saw the whole neighbourhood
assembled when the only son of the Baron de L.
married. The Baron and his wife were very good
specimens of provincial noblesse. He was a tall,
heavily-built man, square-shouldered, with the
weather-beaten complexion of a man who spent all
his days riding about his fields and woods; a
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
pleasant, jovial manner, quite the type of the coun-
try gentleman.
They lived in a charming old Louis XV. chateau
almost in the forest of Villers-Cotterets their park
touching the line of wood. They went rarely to
Paris; lived almost all the year in the country and
were devoted to their place. One just saw the
pointed red roof of the chateau in the trees as one
passed on the road. It stood high, a very steep
road leading up to it. At the foot of the hill were
market gardens, which made a very curious effect
from a distance the long rows of glass "cloches"
making huge white spots. The vegetables always
looked very tempting as we passed in the early
summer. They were all " primeurs" the gardens
lying in full sun and were sent off to the Paris
market. Half-way up the slope was a pretty little
church almost hidden in the trees, and a tiny village
struggled up the hill and along the road.
/ The bride, dressed in white a slight girlish
figure was standing near her mother-in-law and
had a pretty smile of welcome for all the guests.
It was rather an ordeal for her, as she was a
stranger in the country (she came from the south
of France) and every one was looking at the new-
comer.
It was in the first year of my marriage, my first
appearance in the country, and I was rather
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
puzzled about my dress for the occasion. We were
asked to dinner at seven o'clock. My first idea
was to wear full dress light-blue satin and dia-
monds but a niece of Mme. A.'s, who was staying
with us and who had been to some entertainments
in that part of the country, advised me strongly to
dress more simply. "They would not understand
that sort of toilette and I would be overdressed and
probably uncomfortable." So I compromised with
a high white dress, no diamonds and one string of
pearls.
We had a short hour's drive. It was a clear,
cold night and we saw the chateau from a great
distance. It was brilliantly lighted. The lights
twinkling through the trees looked like huge fire-
flies. As we drove into the rather small court-
yard there was quite a stir of carriages arriving and
backing out. The hall doors were wide open; a
flood of light streaming out over the steps Baron
de L. and his son at the door. There was a hum
of voices in the drawing-room and there seemed to
be a great many people. The rooms were hand-
some plenty of light, the old tapestry furniture
looked very well, standing straight and stiff against
the wall, and the number of people took away the
bare unused look they generally had.
All the chateaux of the neighbourhood were
represented: The Comte de Lubersac and his sis-
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
ter had come over from their fine place, Maucreux.
He was a very handsome young man a great
hunter and master of hounds of the stag hunting
in the forest of Villers-Cotterets ; his sister, Mile,
de Lubersac, most attractive, with the face of a
saint. She was very simply dressed in a high black
dress. She lived almost the life of a Sister of
Charity going about all day among the sick and
poor, but she had promised her father, who was a
great invalid, almost crippled with gout, to remain
with him as long as he lived. It was only after
his death that she took the vows and entered one
of the strictest orders (Carmelites) in France.
There were also the chatelaines of Thury en
Valois a fine chateau and estate, not very far
from us in the other direction. They had splendid
gardens and their fruit and vegetables were famous
all over the country. Mme. de Thury was a
compatriot the daughter of an American general;
the young Comte de Melun from Brumetz very
delicate looking, with a refined student's face.
His father was a great friend of the Marechal Mac-
Mahon and one of the leaders of the Catholic
clerical party, and the young man was very
religious. Their woods touched ours and once or
twice when we were riding late, we saw him kneeling
at a little old shrine, "the White Lady," which was
almost hidden under the big trees so little left
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
that the ordinary passer-by would have seen noth-
ing. There were also the owners of Colinance
rather an ugly square house standing low, sur-
rounded by a marsh, but a good property and
three or four men I did not know the bride's
brother and one or two of her relations.
There was hardly time to introduce every one,
as dinner was announced almost immediately. We
were a large party, about twenty. All the women,
except the bride and me, were dressed in black,
high or a very little open no lace, nor jewels.
Henriette was right. I would have looked absurd
if I had worn a low dress. The dinner was very
good, very abundant and very long. The men
said the wines were excellent. The talk was ani-
mated enough it was principally the men who
talked. I didn't think the women said much. I
listened only, as I was too new in the country to
be at all up in local topics.
After coffee the men went off to smoke and we
women remained alone for some time. I wasn't
sorry, as one had so few opportunities of seeing
the neighbours, particularly the women, who rarely
went out of their own places. One met the men
hunting, or in the train, or at the notary's.
The notary is a most important person in all
small country towns in France. Everybody con-
sults him, from the big landowner when he has
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
discussions with his neighbour over right of way,
to the peasant who buys a few metres of land as
soon as he has any surplus funds. We were con-
stantly having rows with one of our neighbours
over a little strip of wood that ran up into ours.
Whenever he was angry with us, which happened
quite often (we never knew why), he had a deep,
ugly ditch made just across the road which we
always took when we were riding around the
property. The woods were so thick and low, with
plenty of thorns, that we could not get along by
keeping on one side and were obliged to go back
and make quite a long detour. The notary did
his best to buy it for us, but the man would never
sell rather enjoyed, I think, having the power to
annoy us.
Mme. de Thury and I fraternised a little and I
should have liked to see more of her, but soon after
that evening they had great trouble. They had a
great deal of illness and lost a son. I never saw
Thury till after both of them were dead. The
chateau had been sold, most of the furniture taken
away and the whole place had a deserted, neglected
look that made one feel quite miserable. The big
drawing-room was piled up with straw, over the
doors were still two charming dessus-de-porte, the
colours quite fresh not at all faded chickens
were walking about in another room, and upstairs
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
in a pretty corner room, with a lovely view over
woods and park, was a collection of photographs,
engravings (one the mother of the late owner), a
piece of unfinished tapestry, samplers, china vases,
books, papers, two or three knots of faded ribbon,
all tossed in a corner like a heap of rubbish. The
things had evidently been forgotten in the big
move, but it looked melancholy.
The chateau must have been charming when it
was furnished and lived in. Quantities of rooms,
a long gallery with small rooms on one side, the
"ga^onniere" or bachelors' quarters, led directly
into the church, where many Thurys are sleeping
their last sleep. The park was beautiful and there
was capital shooting. W. had often shot there in
the old days when their shooting parties were
famous.
We ended our evening with music, the bride
playing extremely well. Mme. de Thury also
sang very well. She had learnt in Italy and sang
in quite bravura style. The evening didn't last
very long after the men came in. Everybody was
anxious to get the long, cold drive over.
I enjoyed myself very much. It was my first
experience of a French country entertainment and
it was very different from what I had expected.
Not at all stiff and a most cordial welcome. I
thought rather naively perhaps that it was the
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
beginning of many entertainments of the same
kind, but I never dined out again in the country.
It is only fair to say that we never asked any one
to dine either. It was not the habit of the house,
and I naturally fell into their ways. Luncheon
was what people liked best, so as not to be too late
on the road or to cross the forest after nightfall,
when the darkness was sometimes impenetrable.
Some of the chatelaines received once a week.
On that day a handsome and plentiful luncheon
was provided and people came from the neighbour-
ing chateaux, and even from Paris, when the dis-
tance was not too great and the trains suited.
We had quite an excitement one day at the
chateau. Francis was riding with the groom one
morning about the end of August, and had hardly
got out of the gates, when he came racing back to
tell us that the manoeuvres were to take place very
near us, small detachments of troops already ar-
riving; and the village people had told him that
quite a large contingent, men and horses, were to
be quartered at the chateau. W. sent him straight
off again to the mayor of Marolles our big village
to know if his information was correct, and how
many people we must provide for. Francis met
the mayor on the road on his way to us, very busy
and bustled with so many people to settle. He was
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
billeting men and horses in the little hamlet, and at
all the farms. He told us we were to have thirty
men and horses six officers, twenty-four men;
and they would arrive at sundown, in time to cook
their dinner. Hubert, the coachman, was quite
bewildered at first how to provide for so many, but
fortunately the stables and dependencies were very
large, and it was quite extraordinary how quickly
and comfortably everything was arranged. Men
from the farm brought in large bundles of straw,
and everybody lent a willing hand they love sol-
diers in France, and are always proud and happy
to receive them.
About 4.30, when we had just moved out to the
tennis ground for tea, we saw an officer with his
orderly riding up the avenue. He dismounted as
soon as he caught sight of us sitting on the lawn,
and introduced himself, said he was sent on ahead
to see about lodging for himself, his brother-officers,
and his men. They were part of a cavalry regi-
ment, chasseurs, stationed at a small town in the
neighbourhood. He asked W. if he might see the
soldiers' quarters, said they brought their own
food and would cook their dinner; asked if there
was a room in the chateau where the sous-officiers
could dine, as they never eat with their men. He,
with W. and Francis, went off to inspect the ar-
rangements and give the necessary orders. We had
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
already seen to the officers' rooms, but hadn't
thought of a separate dining-room for the sous-
officiers; however, it was easily managed. We gave
them the children's dining-room, in the wing near
the kitchen and offices.
When W. came in he told us the whole party
had arrived, and we started off to the communs to
see what was going on. The stable-yard, which is
very large, with some fine trees and outbuildings
all around it, was filled with blue-coated soldiers
and small chestnut horses some were drinking out
of the troughs ; some, tied to the trees, and rings on
the wall, were being rubbed down the men walk-
ing about with the officers' valises and their own
kits, undoing blankets, tin plates, and cups; and I
should think every man and boy on our place and
in the small hamlet standing about anxious to do
something. Our little fox-terriers were mad with
excitement; even the donkey seemed to feel there
was something different in the air. He brayed
noisily, and gave little vicious kicks occasionally
when some of the horses passed too near. A group
of officers was standing at the door of the stables
talking to Hubert, who had managed very well,
putting all the officers' horses into a second stable,
which was always kept for guests, and the others
in the various sheds and outhouses, all under
cover.
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
W. introduced the officers a nice-looking lot,
chasseurs, in the light-blue uniform, which is so
smart. He had asked permission for the men to
dine at the chateau. They had their own meat and
bread, but our chef was most anxious to cook it for
them, and make them another substantial dish;
so it was agreed that they should dine at six in the
servants' hall. They all marched up in proces-
sion, headed by their sergeants ; the blue tunics and
red trousers looked very pretty as they came along
the big avenue. The commandant asked W. if he
would go and say a few words to them when they
were having their coffee. They were very quiet;
one hardly heard anything, though all the windows
were open. W. said it was quite interesting to see
all the young faces smiling and listening hard when
he made his little spdlch. He asked them if they
had had a good dinner; he hoped his man knew
how to cook for soldiers. They all nodded and
smiled at the chef, who was standing at the door
looking very hot and very pleased. He had pro-
duced a sweet dish I don't know what with, as he
didn't habitually have thirty extra people to dinner
but I have always seen that when people want
to do anything it is usually accomplished.
Our dinner was very pleasant. We were ten
at table W. and I, Henrietta, and a niece. The
men talked easily, some of them Parisians, knowing
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
every one. They knew that W. had remained at the
chateau all during the Franco-German War, and
were much interested in all he told them of the
Prussian occupation. Only one of them had, as
a very young fellow, served in 1870. All the rest
were too young, and, like all young soldiers who
have not been through a war and seen the horrors
of it, were rather anxious to have their chance, and
not spend all the best years of their lives in a small,
dull garrison town.
We discussed the plans for the next day. They
were going to have a sham fight over all the big
fields in our neighbourhood, and advised us to
come and see it. They said the best time would
be about ten in the morning, when they were to
monter a 1'assaut of a large farm with moat and
draw-bridge near Dammar ie. They were to make
a very early start (four o'clock), and said they would
be very pleased to have some hot coffee before
mounting, if it could he had at that unearthly hour.
They were very anxious about choosing a horse out
of their squadron for the general, who was an
infantryman, very stout, very rheumatic, and a
very bad rider. The horse must be sure-footed,
an easy mouth, easy canter, no tricks, accustomed
to drum and bugle, to say nothing of the musket-
shots, etc.
Henrietta and I rather amused ourselves after
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
dinner teaching the commandant and another
officer halma, which was just then at the height of
its popularity. We had brought it over from
London, where the whole society was mad over it.
We were staying in a country house one year where
there were seven tables of halma in the long gallery.
The gentlemen rather disdained it at first, but as
the game went on and they began to realise that
there was really some science in it, and that our
men were placing themselves very comfortably in
their little squares, while theirs were wandering
aimlessly about the centre of the board, they
warmed to their task, and were quite vexed when
they were badly beaten. They wanted their re-
vanche. W. came in and gave a word of advice
every now and then. The others finished their
billiards, came to look on, each one suggesting a
different move, which, of course, only complicated
matters, and they lost again. Then some of the
others tried with the same result. I think we
played five or six games. They were so much
pleased with the game that they asked us to write
down the name and where to get it, and one of them
afterward told my nephew, also a cavalry officer,
that they introduced it at their mess and played
every night instead of cards or dominoes. It was
really funny to see how annoyed they were when
their scientific combinations failed.
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The next morning was beautiful a splendid
August day, not too hot, little white clouds scurry-
ing over the bright blue sky, veiling the sun. We
started about nine, W., Francis, and I riding, the
others driving. There were a good many people
about in the fields and cross-roads, a few farmers
riding, and everybody wildly interested telling us
which way to go. Janet, my American niece, who
was staying in the country in France for the first
time, was horrified to see women working in the
fields, couldn't believe that her uncle would allow
it on his farm, and made quite an appeal to him
when we all got home, to put an end to such cruel
proceedings. It seems women never work in the
fields in America, except negresses on some of the
Southern plantations. I have been so long away
that I had forgotten that they didn't, and I remem-
ber quite well my horror the first time we were in
Germany, when we saw a woman and an ox
harnessed together.
We separated from the carriage at the top of the
hill, as we could get a nice canter and shorter road
across the fields. We soon came in sight of the
farmhouse, standing low, with moat and draw-
bridge, in rather an isolated position in the middle
of the fields, very few trees around it. There was
no longer any water in the moat. It was merely a
deep, wide, damp ditch with long, straggling vines
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and weeds filling it up, and a slippery, steep bank.
Soldiers were advancing in all directions, the small
infantrymen moving along with a light, quick step ;
the cavalry apparently had been on the ground
some time, as they were all dismounted and their
horses picketed. We didn't go very near, as W.
wasn't quite sure how the horses would stand the
bugle and firing. They were already pulling hard,
and getting a little nervous. It was pretty to see
the soldiers all mount when the bugle rang out, and
in a moment the whole body was in motion. The
rush of the soldiers over the wide plains and the
drawbridge looked irresistible the men swarmed
down the bank and over the ditch one saw a con-
fused mass of red trousers and kepis. The cavalry
came along very leisurely, guarding the rear. I
looked for the general. He was standing with some
of his staff on a small hill directing operations.
He did look stout and very red and warm; however,
it was the last day, so his troubles were over for the
present.
One of the officers saw us and came up to pay
his respects; said they wouldn't be back at the
chateau until about five; perhaps the ladies would
come to the stable-yard and see thepansage. It
was quite interesting; all the horses ranged in a
semi-circle, men scrubbing and combing hard, the
sous-officiers superintending, the officers standing
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about smoking and seeing that everything was being
packed and ready for an early start the next morn-
ing. I was astonished to see how small the horses
were. My English horse, also a chestnut, was not
particularly big, but he looked a giant among the
others. They admired him very much, and one of
the officers asked Hubert if he thought I would like
to sell him.
Our dinner was again very pleasant, and we
had more halma in the evening. W. played once
or twice, and as he was a fairly good player, the
adversaries had no chance. We broke up early,
as they were to start again at some unearthly hour
the next morning. It seems they were very lively
in the stables after dinner we heard sounds of
merriment, singing, and choruses, and, I fancy,
dancing. However, it made quite a pleasant
break in our summer, and the big place seemed
quieter and lonelier than ever after such unusual
animation. W. said the war talk was much keener
than the first day when they were smoking in the
gallery; all the young ones so eager to earn their
stripes, and so confident that the army had profited
by its bitter experience during the Franco-German
War.
Election day is always a very important day in
France. The village farmers and labourers put
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on their best clothes usually a black coat, silk
hat and white shirt and take themselves solemn-
ly to the Mairie where the voting takes place.
For weeks beforehand agents and lecturers come
from Paris and bamboozle the simple village peo-
ple with newspapers, money and wonderful prom-
ises. It is astounding how easily the French peas-
ant believes all that the political agents tell him
and all that he reads in the cheap papers, for, as a
rule taken en masse they are very intelligent and
at the same time suspicious (mefiants), manage
their own little affairs very well and are rarely
taken in; but there is something in the popular
orator that carries them away and they really be-
lieve that a golden epoch is coming when there
will be no rich and no poor and plenty and equal-
ity for all. They don't care a bit what form of
government they live under as long as their crops
are good, and they can have regular work and no
war. The political agitators understand that very
well. They never lay any stress on Royalist or
Bonapartist, or even a military candidate. The
"People's Candidate" is always their cry one of
themselves who understands them and will give
them all they want. They are disappointed
always. The ministers and deputies change, but
their lives don't, and run on in the same groove;
but they are just as sanguine each time there is an
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election, convinced that, at last, the promised days
of high pay and little work are coming.
I tried to reason with a nice, respectable man
one day, the village mason one of the most fiery
orators at the cafe, over his dominoes, but in every-
day life a sober, hardworking man, with a sickly
wife and several children, who are all clothed and
generally looked after by us. His favourite theme
was the owners of chateaux and big houses who
lived in luxury and thought nothing of the poor.
I said to him, "Why do you listen to all those
foolish speeches that are made in the cafes ? You
know it isn't true half they say. Whenever you
come and ask for anything for your wife and your
children, it is always given to you. You know
quite well whenever any one is ill in the village,
they always come here for wine, old linen, or
bouillon."
"Oh, oui, Madame is good, but Madame does
not understand."
"But it is you, mon ami, who don't understand.
Once the election is over, and they have got your
vote, no one will think about you any more."
" Oh, yes, Madame, everything will be divided-
there will be no more big houses, every one will
have a garden and rabbits not all for the rich. It
is not right; Madame knows it is not right." It
was quite useless talking to him.
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Women in France never take the active part in
elections that they do in England. It interested
me so much when we were living in England to see
many of the great ladies doing all they could for
their candidate, driving all over the country, with
his colours on servants and horses, a big bill in the
windows of their carriages with "Vote for A." on
it. In the drawing-room windows of a well-
known society leader there were two large bills
"VOTE FOR A." I asked W. one day, when he
was standing for the Senate, if he would like me to
drive all about the country with his colours and
"VOTE FOR WADDINGTON" on placards in the
windows of the carriage; but he utterly declined
any such intervention on my part, thought a few
breakfasts at the chateau and a quiet talk over
coffee and cigars would be more to the purpose.
He never took much trouble over his elections the
last years meetings and speeches in all the small
towns and "banquets de pompiers'* were things of
the past. He said the people had seen him "a
I'ceuvre" and that no speeches would change a
vote.
The only year that we gave ourselves any trouble
was during the Boulanger craze. W. went about
a great deal and I often went with him. The
weather was beautiful and we rode all over the
country. We were astounded at the progress
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"Boulangism" had made in our quiet villages.
Wherever we went in the cafes, in the auberges,
in the grocer's shop there was a picture of Bou-
langer prancing on his black horse.
We stopped one day at a miserable little cottage,
not far from our place, where a workman had had
a horrible accident been caught in the machine
of one of the sugar mills. Almost all the men in
the village worked in W.'s woods and had always
voted as one man for him or his friends. WTien
we went into the poor little dark room, with liter-
ally nothing in it but the bed, a table, and some
chairs, the first thing we saw was the well-known
picture of Boulanger, on the mantelpiece. We
talked a little to the man and his wife (the poor
fellow was suffering terribly), and then W. said,
" I am surprised to see that picture. Do you know
General Boulanger? Have you ever seen him?"
The man's face quite lighted up as he looked at
the picture, and he answered: "Non, Monsieur,
je ne 1'ai jamais vu mais il est crane celui-la,"
and that was all that he could ever get out of him
"il est crane." I don't know exactly what he
meant. I don't think he knew himself, but he
was quite excited when he spoke of the hero.
Boulanger's campaign was very cleverly done.
His agents distributed papers, pictures and money
most liberally. One of the curious features of that
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
episode was the quantity of money that was given.
Gold flowed freely in to the General's coffers from
all parts of France; great names, grandes dames,
giving largely and openly to the cause a great
deal sent anonymously and a great deal in very
small sums.
Boulanger lived in our street, and I was as-
tounded one day when I met him (I did not know
him) riding always with a man on each side of
him. Almost every one took off his hat to him,
and there were a few faint cries of "Vive Boulan-
ger," proceeding chiefly from the painters and ma-
sons who were building a house just opposite ours.
Certainly for a short time he had the game in
his hands could, I think, have carried the
country, but when the moment to act arrived, his
nerve failed him. It is difficult to understand
what made his great popularity. Politics had not
been satisfactory. The President Grevy had
resigned under unfortunate circumstances. There
had been a succession of weak and inefficient
cabinets, and there was a vague feeling of unrest
in the country. Boulanger seemed to promise
something better. He was a soldier (which always
appeals to the French), young and dashing, sur-
rounded by clever unscrupulous people of all
classes. Almost all the young element of both
parties, Radical and Conservative (few of the
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moderate Republicans), had rallied to his pro-
gramme "Revision et Dissolution." His friends
were much too intelligent to let him issue a long
"manifesto" (circular), promising all sorts of
reforms and changes he never could have carried
out, while his two catch words gave hopes to
everybody. A revision of the constitution might
mean a monarchy, empire, or military dictator-
ship. Each party thought its turn had come, and
dissolving the chambers would of course bring a
new one, where again each party hoped to have
the majority.
The Paris election by an overwhelming majority
was his great triumph. The Government did all
they could to prevent it, but nothing could stop
the wave of popularity. The night of the election
Boulanger and his Etat-major were assembled at
Durand's, the well-known cafe on the corner of
the Boulevard and the rue Royale. As the evening
went on and the returns came in far exceeding
anything they had hoped for there was but one
thought in every one's mind "A PElysee." Hun-
dreds of people were waiting outside and he would
have been carried in triumph to the Palace. He
could not make up his mind. At midnight he still
wavered. His great friend, the poet Deroulede,
then took out his watch waited, in perfect silence,
until it was five minutes past twelve, and then said,
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" General, depuis cinq minutes votre aureole baisse."
Boulanger went out by a side door, leaving his
friends disappointed and furious to announce to
the waiting crowd that the General had gone home.
He could certainly have got to the Elysee that
night. How long he would have stayed, and whom
he would have put there, we shall never know.
MARETJIL, October 31st.
It has been a beautiful, warm, bright autumn
day and, for a wonder, we have had no frost yet,
not even a white one, so that the garden is still full
of flowers, and all day the village children have
been coming begging for some to decorate the
graves for to-morrow. I went in to the church-
yard this afternoon, which was filled with women
and children looking after their dead. It is not
very pretty our little churchyard part of a field
enclosed on the slope of the hill, not many trees, a
few tall poplars and a laurel hedge but there is a
fine open view over the great fields and woods al-
ways the dark blue line of the forest in the distance.
They are mostly humble graves small farmers and
peasants but I fancy they must sleep very peace-
fully in the fields they have worked in all their lives
full of poppies and cornflowers in summer and
a soft gold brown in the autumn, when the last
crops are cut and the hares run wild over the hills.
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I think these two days the "Toussaint" and
the "Jour des Morts" are the two I like best in
the Catholic Church, and certainly they are the
only ones, in our part of the world, when the
churches are full. I walked about some little
time looking at all the preparations. Every grave
had some flowers (sometimes only a faded bunch
of the last field flowers) except one, where there
were no flowers, but a little border of moss all
around and a slip of pasteboard on a stick stuck
into the ground with "a ma Mere" written on it.
All the graves are very simple, generally a plain
white cross with headstone and name. One or
two of the rich farmers had something rather more
important a slab of marble, or a broken column
when it was a child's grave, and were more am-
bitious in the way of flowers and green plants, but
no show of any kind none of the terrible bead
wreaths one sees in large cities.
There was a poor old woman, nearly bent double,
leaning on a stick, standing at one of the very
modest graves; a child about six years old with
her, with a bunch of flowers in a broken cup she
was trying to arrange at the foot of the grave. I
suppose my face was expressive, for the old woman
answered my unspoken thought. "Ah, yes, Ma-
dame, it is / who ought to be lying there instead
of my children. All gone before me except this
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one grandchild, and I a helpless, useless burden
upon the charity of the parish."
On my way home I met all the village children
carrying flowers. We had given our best chrysan-
themums for the "pain benit," which we offer to-
morrow to the church. Three or four times a
year, at the great fetes, the most important families
of the village offer the "pain benit," which is then a
brioche. We gave our boulanger "carte blanche,"
and he evidently was very proud of his performance,
as he offered to bring it to us before it was sent to
the church, but we told him we would see it there.
I am writing late. We have all come up stairs. It
is so mild that my window is open; there is not a
sound except the sighing of the wind in the pines
and the church bells that are ringing for the vigil
of All Saints. Besides our own bells, we hear
others, faintly, hi the distance, from the little village
of Neufchelles, about two miles off. It is a bad
sign when we hear Neufchelles too well. Means
rain. I should be so sorry if it rained to-morrow,
just as all the fresh flowers have been put on the
graves.
November 2nd. " Jour des Morts."
We had a beautiful day yesterday and a nice
service in our little church. Our "pain benit" was
a thing of beauty and quite distracted the school
children. It was a most imposing edifice two
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
large, round brioches, four smaller ones on top, they
went up in a pyramid. The four small ones go to
the notabilities of the village the cure, two of the
principal farmers and the miller; the whole thing
very well arranged, with red and white flowers and
lighted tapers. It was carried by two "enfants de
chceur," preceded by the beadle with his cocked
hat and staff and followed by two small girls with
lighted tapers. The "enfants de chceur" were not
in their festal attire of red soutanes and red shoes
only in plain black. Since the inventories ordered
by the government in all the churches, most of
the people have taken away their gifts in the way
of vestments, soutanes, vases, etc., and the red
soutanes, shoes and caps, with a handsome white
satin embroidered vestment that C. gave the church
when she was married, are carefully folded and
put away in a safe place out of the church until
better times should come.
After luncheon we went over to Soissons in the
auto the most enchanting drive through the
forest of Villers-Cotterets the poplar trees a line
of gold and all the others taking the most lovely
colours of red and brown. Soissons is a fine old
cathedral town with broad squares, planted with
stiff trees like all the provincial towns in France;
many large old-fashioned hotels, entre cour et
jardin, and a number of convents and abbeys, now
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turned into schools, barracks, government offices
of all kinds, but the fine proportions and beautiful
lines are always there.
The city has seen many changes since its first
notoriety as the capital of the France of Clovis, and
one feels how much has happened in the quiet
deserted streets of the old town, where almost every
corner is picturesque. The fine ruins of St. Jean
des Vignes faced us as we drove along the broad
boulevard. A fa9ade and two beautiful towers
with a cloister is all that remains of a fine old abbey
begun in 1076. It is now an arsenal. One can
not always get in, but the porter made no difficulty
for us, and we wandered about in the courtyard
and cloister. The towers looked beautifully grey
and soft against the bright blue sky, and the view
over Soissons, with all its churches and old houses,
was charming. It seems that Thomas a Becket,
Archbishop of Canterbury, lived at the Abbey when
he was exiled from England and had taken refuge
in France.
We wanted to go to the service in the Cathedral,
but thought we would go first to the patissier (an
excellent one, well known in all the neighbourhood)
famous for a very good bonbon made of coffee
and called "Tors de Soissons." The little place
was full every schoolboy in Soissons was there
eating cakes and bonbons. There was a notice
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up in the shop, "Lipton Tea," and we immediately
asked for some. The woman made a place for
us, with difficulty, on a corner of a table and gave
us very good English tea, toast and cakes. I
complimented the patronne on her tea and she
said so many automobiles with foreigners Eng-
lish principally passed through Soissons in the
summer all asking for tea that she thought she
must try to get some. One of the ladies told her
where to get Lipton Tea and how much to pay
for it. She has found it a very good speculation.
We walked to the Cathedral through a grand old
Square planted with fine trees, that had once been
a part of the garden of the Eveche. As it was
getting dark, we could not see the outside very
well. A gigantic mass of towers and little steeples
loomed up through the twilight, but the inside was
very striking crowded with people, lights, ban-
ners, flowers everywhere five or six priests were
officiating and the Bishop in full dress, with his
gold mitre on his head, was seated on his red velvet
throne under the big crucifix. The congregation
(there were a good many men) was following the
service very devoutly, but there were a great many
people walking about and stopping at the different
chapels which rather takes away from the devo-
tional aspect. Unfortunately the sermon had only
just begun, so we didn't hear any music. The
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
organ is very fine and they have a very good choir.
Neither did we hear the famous chimes, which we
regretted very much. Some of the bells have a
beautiful sound one in particular, that used to
be at St. Jean de Vignes, has a wonderful deep
note. One hears it quite distinctly above all the
others. All the bells have names. This one used
to be called "Simon," after a Bishop Simon le
Gras, who blessed it in 1643. When the voice got
faint and cracked with age, it was "refondue"
(recast) and called Julie Pauline.
It was quite dark and cold when we started back.
We had to light our big lantern almost as soon
as we left Soissons. For some little time after we
got out of the town we met people walking and
driving all with holiday garbs and faces but
once we plunged in the long forest alleys we were
absolutely cut off from the outside world. It is
a curious sensation I have never got accustomed to,
those long, dark, lonely forest roads. The leaves
were still so thick on the trees that we could hardly
see the last glow of a beautiful orange sunset.
The only sign of life was a charbonnier's hut in a
clearing quite close to the road. They had a dull
light; just enough to let us see dusky figures mov-
ing about.
This morning our church looked quite different
no more banners, embroideries or bright flowers,
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
all draped in black and a bier covered with a black
pall in the middle of the aisle the cure in a
black satin vestment ; all the congregation in black.
I went out before the end of the service. All the
black draperies and the black kneeling figures
and the funeral psalms were so inexpressibly sad
and dreary. I was glad to get out into the sun-
shine and to the top of the hill, where the cemetery
gates stood wide open and the sun was streaming
down on all the green graves with their fresh
flowers and plants. Soon we heard the sound of
the chaunt, and the procession wound slowly up
the steep, straggling village street. A banner and
cross carried by the boys and girls then the cure,
with his "ostensoir," followed by his "enfants de
chceur" carrying books and tapers, then the con-
gregation. There were a great many people al-
ready in the cemetery. The little procession
halted at the foot of the cross in the middle. There
were several prayers and psalms, and then the
cure made the tour of the cemetery, sprinkling all
the graves with holy water and saying a short
prayer at each. The procession broke up into
groups, all kneeling at the different graves pray-
ing for their dead. There were not many men; a
few old ones. They were not kneeling, but stood
reverently, with bowed heads, when the cure
passed. It was a pretty sight the kneeling figures,
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the flower-covered graves, the little procession
winding in and out among the tombstones, the
white soutanes of the boys shining in the sun and
not a sound except the droning of the chaunts.
As it was fete one of the great religious fetes
of the year there was no work going on no
labourers in the fields, no carts on the road noth-
ing but the great stillness of the plains.
We had our cure at dinner. We were quite
sure no one else would ask him and it seemed a
shame to leave him in his empty "presbytere" on
a fete day. I think his evenings with us are the
only bright spots in his life just now. The situa-
tion of the priests is really wretched and their
future most uncertain. This government has taken
away the very small stipend they allowed them.
Our cure got his house and nine hundred francs
a year not quite two hundred dollars. In many
cases they have refused to let the priests live in
their "presbyteres" unless they pay rent. The
churches are still open. They can have their
services if they like, but those who have no for-
tune (which is the case with most of them) are
entirely dependent upon the voluntary contribu-
tion of their parishioners.
Our little cure has no longer his servant the
traditional, plain, middle-aged bonne of the priest
(they are not allowed to have a woman servant
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
under fifty). He lives quite alone in his cold,
empty house and has a meal of some kind brought
into him from the railway cafe. What is hardest
for him is never to have an extra franc to give to
his poor. He is profoundly discouraged, but does
his duty simply and cheerfully; looks after the
sick, nurses them when there is a long illness or
an accident, teaches the women how to keep their
houses clean and how to cook good plain food.
He is a farmer's son and extraordinarily practical.
He came to us one day to ask if we had a spare
washing tub we could give him. He was going to
show a woman who sewed and embroidered beauti-
fully and who was very poor and unpractical, how
to do her washing. I think the people have a
sort of respect for him, but they don't come to
church. Everybody appeals to him. We couldn't
do anything one day with a big kite some one had
given the children. No one could in the house,
neither gardener, chauffeur, nor footmen, so we
sent for him, and it was funny to see him shorten-
ing the tail of the kite and racing over the lawn in
his black soutane. However, he made it work.
He was rather embarrassed this evening, as he
had refused something I had asked him to do and
was afraid I wouldn't understand. We were pass-
ing along the canal the other day when the"eclu-
sier" came out of his house and asked me if I
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
would come and look at his child who was fright-
fully ill his wife in despair. Without thinking
of my little ones at home, I went into the house,
where I found, in a dirty, smelly room, a slatternly
woman holding in her arms a child, about two years
old, who, I thought, was dead such a ghastly
colour eyes turned up; however, the poor little
thing moaned and moved and the woman was
shaken with sobs the father and two older chil-
dren standing there, not knowing what to do.
They told me the doctor had come in the early
morning and said there was nothing to do. I
asked if they had not sent for the cure. "No,
they hadn't thought of it." I said I would tell
him as I passed the presbyter e on my way home.
He wasn't there, but I left word that the child was
dying could he go ?
The child died about an hour after I had left
the house. I sent a black skirt to the woman and
was then obliged to go to Paris for two or three
days. When I came back I asked my gardener,
who is from this part of the country and knows
everybody, if the child's funeral had been quite
right. He told me it was awful there was no
service the cure would not bury him as he had
never been baptized. The body had been put
into a plain wooden box and carried to the ceme-
tery by the father and a friend.
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I was very much upset, but, of course, the thing
was over and there was nothing to be done. How-
ever, when we talked it over, I understood quite
well. To begin with, all priests are forbidden to
read the burial service over any one who has not
been baptized, therefore he had no choice. And
this man was not only an unbeliever, but a mocker
of all religion. When his last child was born he
had friends over, from some of the neighbouring
villages, who were Freemasons (they are a very
bad lot in France); they had a great feast and
baptized the child in red wine. I rather regretted
the black frock I sent the mother, but she looked
so utterly wretched and perhaps she could not
help herself.
, The little cure is very pleased to have his mid-
night mass this year on Christmas eve. Last year
it was suppressed. There was such angry feeling
and hostility to the clergy that the authorities were
afraid there might be scenes and noisy protesta-
tions in the churches; perhaps in some quarters
of the big cities, but certainly not in the country
where people hold very much to the midnight mass.
It is also one of the services that most people
attend. It is always a pretty sight in the country,
particularly if there happens to be snow on the
ground. Every one that can walk comes. One
sees the little bands arriving across the fields and
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
along the canal five or six together, with a lantern.
Entire families turn out the old grandfathers
hobbling along on their sticks, the women carrying
their babies, who are generally very good quite
taken up with the lights and music, or else asleep.
We always sing Adam's "Noel." In almost every
church in France, I think, they sing it. Even in
the big Paris churches like the Madeleine and St.
Eustache, where they have orchestras and trained
choirs, they always sing the "Noel" at some
period of the service.
MAREUIL, le 24 Mai.
To-day was the Premiere Communion at La
Ferte, and I had promised the Abbe Devigne to
go. I couldn't have the auto, as Francis was at
a meeting of a Syndicat Agricole in quite another
direction. So I took the train (about seven min-
utes), and I really believe I had the whole train to
myself. No one travels in France, on Sunday, in
the middle of the day. It is quite a long walk
from the station to the church (the service was at
Notre Dame, the church on the hill), with rather
a steep climb at the end. The little town looked
quite deserted a few women standing at their
doors and in all directions white figures of all ages
were galloping up the hill. The bells were ring-
ing and we were a little late. The big doors of
the church were wide open, the organ playing,
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and a good many people standing about. The
altar was bright with flowers and candles, and
" oriflammes " of blue and pink gauze, worked
with gold and silver lilies, were stretched across
the church between the pillars. One or two
banners with the head of the Virgin and flowers
painted in bright colours were also hanging from
the columns. Two or three priests, with hand-
some vestments white embroidered in gold
were officiating, and the choir boys wore their red
petticoats soutanes trimmed with lace and red
shoes and caps. The Suisse (beadle), with his
cocked hat, silver embroidered coat and big cane,
was hovering about, keeping order.
Just inside the chancel sat the " communiants "
fifty boys and girls. The girls all in white
from top to toe white dresses, shoes, and gloves,
and long white veils coming to the edge of the
dress, and either a white cap (which looks very
pretty and quaint on the little heads rather like
some of the old Dutch pictures) or a wreath of
white flowers. With them sat about half a dozen
smaller girls also in white, with wreaths of white
roses. They were too small to make their first com-
munion, but they were to hold the cordons of the
banner when the procession passed down the church.
The boys were all in black, short jackets, white
waistcoats, and white ribbon bows on their sleeves.
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CEREMONIES AND FESTIVALS
The church was very full mostly women, a
few men at the bottom. It was a pretty sight
when the procession moved around the church.
First came the "sacristain" in his black skirt and
white soutane, then the banner held by two of the
big girls; the group of little ones some of them
quite tiny and so pretty with the wreaths of white
roses on their black hair holding the cords and
looking most pleased with their part of the func-
tion. Just behind them came the good old re-
ligieuse Sceur St. Antoine, hovering over her little
flock and keeping them all in their places; then
all the communiants, the smallest girls first, the
boys behind, all carrying lighted tapers and singing
a hymn to the accompaniment of the organ.
They went first to the font, stopped there, and
one of the girls read a sort of prayer renewing their
baptismal vows. Then they started again, in the
same order, to the Chapelle de la Vierge, always
singing their hymn, and knelt at the rails. Then
the hymn stopped, and they recited, all together,
a prayer to the Virgin. The little childish voices
sounded quite distinctly in the old church one
heard every word. The congregation was much
interested.
There wasn't a sound. I don't know if it was
any sort of religious feeling some dim recollec-
tion of their early days, or merely the love of a show
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
of any kind that is inherent in all the Latin race,
but they seemed much impressed. While the col-
lection was being made there was music very good
local talent two violin soli played by a young
fellow, from one of the small neighbouring cha-
teaux, whom we all knew well, and the "Panus
Angelicus" of Cesar Franck, very well sung by
the wife of the druggist. The cure of La Ferte,
a very clever, cultivated man, with a charming
voice and manner, made a very pretty, short ad-
dress, quite suited to childish ears and under-
standing, with a few remarks at the end to the
parents, telling them it was their fault if their
children grew up hostile or indifferent to religion;
that it was a perfectly false idea that to be patriotic
and good citizens meant the abandonment of all
religious principles.
We waited until the end of the service (Francis
and his friends arrived in time to hear the cure's
address), and watched the procession disappear
down the steep path and gradually break up as
each child was carried off by a host of friends and
relations to its home. The cure was very pleased,
said he had had a "belle fete" people had sent
flowers and ribbons and helped as much as they
could to decorate the church. I asked him if he
thought it made a lasting impression on the chil-
dren. He thought it did on the girls, but the boys
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certainly not. Until their first communion he held
them a little, could interest them in books and
games after school hours, but after that great step
in their lives they felt themselves men, and were
impatient of any control.
[199]
VI
CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
IT had been a cold December, quite recalling
Christmas holidays at home when we used
to think Christmas without snow wasn't a real
Christmas, and half the pleasure of getting the
greens to dress the church was gone, if the chil-
dren hadn't to walk up to their ankles in un-
trodden snow across the fields to get the long,
trailing branches of ivy and bunches of pine. We
were just warm enough in the big chateau. There
were two caloriferes, and roaring wood fires (trees)
in the chimneys; but even I must allow that the
great stone staircase and long corridors were cold:
and I couldn't protest when nearly all the members
of the household of all ages wrapped themselves
in woolen shawls and even fur capes at night when
the procession mounted the big staircase. I had
wanted for a long time to make a Christmas Tree
in our lonely little village of St. Quentin, near
Louvry, our farm, but I didn't get much support
from my French friends and relations. W. was
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CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
decidedly against it. The people wouldn't under-
stand had never seen such a thing; it was en-
tirely a foreign importation, and just beginning to
be understood in the upper classes of society.
One of my friends, Madame Casimir-Perier,*
who has a beautiful chateau at Pont-sur-Seine (of
historic renown "La Grande Mademoiselle"
danced there "A Pont j'ai fait venir les violons,"
she says in her memoirs), also disapproved. She
gives away a great deal herself, and looks after all
her village, but not in that way. She said I had
much better spend the money it would cost, on
good, sensible, warm clothes, blankets, "bons de
pain," etc.; there was no use in giving them ideas
of pleasure and refinement they had never had
and couldn't appreciate. Of course it was all
perfectly logical and sensible, but I did so want to
be unreasonable, and for once give these poor,
wretched little children something that would be a
delight to them for the whole year one poor little
ray of sunshine in their gray, dull lives.
We had many discussions in the big drawing-
room after dinner, when W. was smoking in
the arm-chair and disposed to look at things less
sternly than in bright daylight. However, he
finally agreed to leave me a free hand, and I told
* Madame Casimir-Pe*rier, widow of the well-known liberal states-
man, and mother of the ex-President of the Republic.
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
him we should give a warm garment to every child,
and to the very old men and women. I knew I
should get plenty of help, as the Sisters and Pauline
promised me dolls and "dragees." I am sorry he
couldn't be here; the presence of the Ambassador
would give more eclat to the fete, and I think in
his heart he was rather curious as to what we could
do, but he was obliged to go back to London for
Christmas. His leave was up, and beside, he had
various country and shooting engagements where
he would certainly enjoy himself and see interest-
ing people. I shall stay over Christmas and start
for London about the 29th, so as to be ready to
go to Knowsley* by the 30th, where we always
spend the New Year's Day.
We started off one morning after breakfast to
interview the school-mistress and the Mayor a
most important personage. If you had ever seen
St. Quentin you would hardly believe it could
possess such an exalted functionary. The village
consists of about twelve little, low gray houses,
stretching up a steep hill, with a very rough road
toward the woods of Borny behind. There are
forty inhabitants, a church, and a school-house;
but it is a "commune," and not the smallest in
France (there is another still smaller somewhere
hi the South, toward the Alpes Maritimes). I
* The Earl of Derby's fine palace near Liverpool.
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CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
always go and make a visit to the Mayor, who is a
very small farmer and keeps the drinking shop* of
the village. We shake hands and I sit a few
minutes in a wooden chair in the one room (I
don't take a drink, which is so much gained), and
we talk about the wants and general behaviour of
the population. The first time I went I was on
horseback, so we dismounted and had our little
talk. When we got up to go he hurriedly brought
out a bench for me to mount from, and was quite
bewildered when he saw W. lift me to the saddle
from the ground.
The church is a pretty, old gray building
standing very high, with the little graveyard on
one side, and a grass terrace in front, from which
one has the most lovely view down the valley, and
over the green slopes to the woods Borny and
Villers-Cotterets on one side, Chezy the other. It
is very worn and dilapidated inside, and is never
open except on the day of St. Quentin,f when the
cure of La Ferte-Milon comes over and has a
service. The school-house is a nice modern little
house, built by W. some years ago. It looks as
if it had dropped down by mistake into this very
old world little hamlet.
It is a short walk, little more than two kilo-
metres from the gates of the big park, and the day
* Cabaret. t In August, I think.
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
was enchanting cold and bright; too bright, in-
deed, for the low, gray clouds of the last days
had been promising snow and I wanted it so much
for my tree! We were quite a party Henrietta,
Anne, Pauline, Alice and Francis, Bonny the fox-
terrier, and a very large and heavy four-wheeled
cart, which the children insisted upon taking and
which naturally had to be drawn up all the hills
by the grown-ups, as it was much too heavy for the
little ones. Bonny enjoyed himself madly, making
frantic excursions to the woods in search of rabbits,
absolutely unheeding call or whistle, and finally
emerging dirty and scratched, stopping at all the
rabbit holes he met on the way back, and burrow-
ing deep into them until nothing was left but a
stumpy little white tail wagging furiously.
We went first to the Mayor, as we were obliged
to ask his permission to give our party at the school.
Nothing in France can be done without official
sanction. I wanted, too, to speak to him about a
church service, which I was very anxious to have
before the Tree was lighted. I didn't want the
children's only idea of Christmas to be cakes and
toys; and that was rather difficult to arrange, as
the situation is so strained between the clergy and
the lai'ques, particularly the cure and the school-
master. I knew I should have no trouble with the
school-mistress (the school is so small it is mixed
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CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
girls and boys from four to twelve and there is
a woman teacher; she is the wife of one of our
keepers, and a nice woman) but I didn't know
how the Mayor would feel on the subject. How-
ever, he was most amiable; would do anything I
wanted. I said I held very much to having the
church open and that I would like as many people
to come as it would hold. Would he tell all the
people in the neighbourhood? I would write to
the principal farmers, and I was sure we could
make a most interesting fete. He was rather
flattered at being consulted; said he would come
up with us and open the church. It was absolutely
neglected and there was nothing in the way of
benches, carpets, etc. I told him I must go first
to the school, but I would meet him at the church
in half an hour.
The children were already up the hill, tugging the
big cart filled with pine cones. The school-mistress
was much pleased at the idea of the Christmas
Tree; she had never seen one except in pictures,
and never thought she would really have one in
her school. We settled the day, and she promised
to come and help arrange the church. Then we
went into the school-room, and it was funny to
hear the answer a roar of "Oui, Madame
Waddington," when I asked her if the children
were "good"; so we told them if they continued
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
very good there would be a surprise for them.
There are only thirty scholars rather poor and
miserable looking ; some of them come from so far,
trudge along the high-road in a little band, in all
weathers, insufficiently clad one big boy to-day
had on a linen summer jacket. I asked the teacher
if he had a tricot underneath. "Mais non, Ma-
dame, ou l'aurait-il trouve?" He had a miserable
little shirt underneath which may once have been
flannel, but which was worn threadbare.
We chose our day and then adjourned to the
church, where the Mayor and a nice, red-cheeked,
wrinkled old woman* who keeps the ornaments,
such as they are, of the church were waiting for
us. It was certainly bare and neglected, the old
church, bits of plaster dropping off walls and
ceilings, and the altar and one or two little statues
still in good condition; but we saw we could ar-
range it pretty well with greens, the few flowers,
chrysanthemums, Christmas roses, etc., that were
still in the green-house, a new red carpet for the
altar steps, and of course vases, tall candlesticks,
etc. There was one handsome bit of old lace on
a white nappe for the altar, and a good dress for
the Virgin. We could have the school benches, and
the Mayor would lend chairs for the "quality."
On the whole we were satisfied, and told W.
* La Mere Rogov.
[206]
The Mayor and a nice, red-cheeked, wrinkled old woman were waiting for us.
CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
triumphantly at dinner that the Mayor, so far
from making any objection, was pleased as Punch;
he had never seen a Christmas Tree either.
The next day the list of the children was sent
according to age and sex also the old people;
and we were very busy settling what we must do
in the way of toys. The principal thing was to go
to Paris and get all we wanted toys, "betises,"
and shiny things for the Tree, etc. Henrietta and
I undertook that, and we went off the same day
that W. left for London. It was bitterly cold
the ground frozen hard and we had a long drive,
eighteen kilometres through Villers-Cotterets forest
but no snow, only a beautiful white frost all
the trees and bushes covered with rime. It was
like driving through a fairy forest. When we had
occasional gleams of sunlight every leaf sparkled,
and the red berries of the holly stood out beauti-
fully from all the white. The fine old ruins of
La Ferte looked splendid rising out of a mass of
glistening underwood and long grass. We are very
proud of our old chateau-fort, which has with-
stood well the work of time. It was begun (and
never finished) by Louis d'Orleans in 1303, and
was never inhabited. Now there is nothing left
but the fa9ade and great round towers, but quite
enough to show what it might have been. There
is also a bas-relief, perfectly well preserved, over
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
the big door, of the Coronation of the Virgin, the
kneeling figure quite distinct. On the other side
is a great grass place (village green) where the
fetes of La Ferte take place, and where all the town
dances the days of the "Assemblee." From the
bottom of the terrace, at the foot of the low wall,
one has a magnificent view over the town and the
great forest of Villers-Cotterets stretching away in
front, a long blue line on the horizon. In the main
street of La Ferte there is a statue of Racine,
who was born there. It is in white marble, in
the classic draperies of the time, and is also in
very good preservation. The baptismal register
of Jean Racine is in the archives of La Ferte.
The road all the way to Villers-Cotterets was
most animated. It was market-day, and we met
every description of vehicle, from the high, old-
fashioned tilbury of the well-to-do farmer, to the
peasant's cart sometimes an old woman driving,
well wrapped up, her turban on her head, but a
knit shawl wound around it, carrying a lot of
cheeses to market; sometimes a man with a cow
tied behind his cart, and a calf inside. We also
crossed Menier's equipage de chasse, horses and
dogs being exercised. We talked a few minutes
to Hubert, the piqueur, who was in a very bad
humor. They had not hunted for some days, and
dogs and horses were unruly. The horses were
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CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
a fine lot, almost all white or light gray. We go
sometimes to the meets, and the effect is very
good, as the men all wear scarlet coats and the
contrast is striking.
We had an exhausting day in Paris, but managed
to get pretty nearly everything. The little chil-
dren were easily disposed of dolls, drums, wooden
horses, etc.; but the bigger boys and girls, who
have outgrown toys, are more difficult to suit.
However, with knives, paint-boxes, lotos (geograph-
ical and historical), for the boys; and handkerchief
and work-boxes, morocco bags, etc., we did finally
get our fifty objects. There are always extra
children cropping up. Shopping was not very easy,
as the streets and boulevards were crowded and
slippery. We had a fairly good cab, but the time
seemed endless. The big bazaars Hotel de Ville,
rue d' Amsterdam, etc. were the most amusing;
really, one could get anything from a five-sou doll
to a menagere (the little cooking-stove all the
peasant women use in their cottages) . There were
armies of extras white-aproned youths, who did
their best for us. We explained to one of the
superintendents what we wanted, and he gave us
a very intelligent boy, who followed us about with
an enormous basket, into which everything was
put. When we finally became almost distracted
with the confusion and the crowd and our list,
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
we asked the boy what he had liked when he was
eleven years old at school; and he assured us all
boys liked knives and guns.
When we had finished with the boys we had the
decorations for the Tree to get, and then to the
Bon Marche for yards of flannel, calico, bas de
laine, tricots, etc. We had given W. rendezvous
at five at Henrietta's. He was going to cross at
night. We found him there having his tea. He
had seen lots of people; been to the Elysee and had
a long interview with the President (Grevy) ; then
to the Quai d'Orsay to get his last instructions
from the Minister; and he had still people coming
to see him. When we left (our train was before
his) he was closeted with one of his friends, a
candidate for the Institute, very keen about his
vote which W. had promised him, and going
over for about the twentieth time the list of the
members to see what his chances were. However,
I suppose all candidates are exactly alike, and
W. says he is sure he was a nuisance to all his
friends when he presented himself at the Institute.
One or two people were waiting in the dining-room
to speak to him, and his servant was distracted
over his valise, which wasn't begun then. I prom-
ised him I would write him a faithful account of
our fete once we had decided our day. We took
the five-o'clock train down, and a nice cold drive
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CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
we had going home. The roads were rather
slippery, and the forest black and weird. The
trees which had been so beautiful in the morning
covered with rime, seemed a massive black wall
hemming us in. It is certainly a lonely bit of
country, once we had left the lights of Villers-
Cotterets behind us, crossed the last railway, and
were fairly started in the forest. We didn't meet
anything neither cart, carriage, bucheron, nor
pedestrian of any kind.
Henrietta was rather nervous, and she breathed
a sigh of relief when we got out on the plains and
trotted down the long hill that leads to La Ferte.
The chateau lights looked very warm and home-
like as we drove in. We gave a detailed account
of all we had bought, and as we had brought our
lists with us we went to work at once, settling what
each child should have. I found a note from the
Abbe Marechal, the cure of Laferte-Milon, whom
I wanted to consult about our service. He is a
very clever, moderate man, a great friend of ours,
and I was sure he would help us and arrange a
service of some kind for the children. Of course
I was rather vague about a Catholic service; a
Protestant one I could have arranged myself, with
some Christmas carols and a short liturgy, but I
had no idea what Christmas meant to Catholic
minds. We had asked him to come to breakfast
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
and we would go over to the village afterward, see
the church and what could be done. He was quite
pleased at the idea of doing anything for his poor
little parish, and he is so fond of children and young
people that he was quite as much interested as we
were. He knew the church, having held a service
there three or four times. We walked over, talking
over the ceremony and what we could do. He said
he would give a benediction, bring over the Enfant
Jesus, and make a small address to the children.
The music was rather difficult to arrange, but we
finally agreed that we would send a big omnibus to
bring over the harmonium from La Ferte, one or
two Sisters, two choir children, and three or four
of the older girls of the school who could sing, and
he would see that they learned two or three can-
ticles.
We agreed to do everything in the way of deco-
ration. He made only one condition: that the
people should come to the service. I could answer
for all our household and for some of the neigh-
bours almost all, in fact as I was sure the novel-
ty of the Christmas Tree would attract them, and
they wouldn't mind the church service thrown in.
We went of course to see the Mayor, as the
cure was obliged to notify him that he wished to
open the church, and also to choose the day. We
took Thursday, which is the French holiday; that
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CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
left us just two days to make our preparations.
We told Madame Isidore (the school-mistress) we
would come on Wednesday for the church, bring-
ing flowers, candles, etc., and Thursday morning
to dress the Tree. The service was fixed for three
o'clock the Tree afterward in the school-room.
We found our big ballots* from the bazaars and
other shops, when we got home, and all the evening
we wrote tickets and names (some of them so high-
sounding Ismerie, Aline, Leocadie, etc.), and
filled little red and yellow bags, which were very
troublesome to make, with "dragees."
Wednesday we made a fine expedition to the
woods the whole party, the donkey-cart, and one
of the keepers to choose the Tree a most impor-
tant performance, as we wanted the real pyramid
"sapin," tapering off to a fine point at the top.
Labbey (keeper) told us his young son and the
coachman's son had been all the morning in the
woods getting enormous branches of pine, holly,
and ivy, which we would find at the church. We
came across various old women making up their
bundles of fagots and dead wood (they are always
allowed to come once a week to pick up the dead
wood, under the keeper's surveillance). They
were principally from Louvry and St. Quentin, and
were staggering along, carrying quite heavy bun-
* Big packages.
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
dies on their poor old bent backs. However, they
were very smiling to-day, and I think the burden
was lightened by the thought of the morrow. We
found a fine tree, which was installed with some
difficulty in the donkey-cart; Francis and Alice
taking turns driving, perched on the trunk of the
tree, and Labbey walking behind, supporting the
top branches.
We found the boys at the church, having already
begun their decorations enormous, high pine
branches ranged all along the wall, and trails of
ivy on the windows. The maids had arrived in
the carriage, bringing the new red carpet, vases,
candelabras and tall candlesticks, also two splendid
wax candles painted and decorated, which Ger-
trude Schuyler had brought us from Italy; all the
flowers the gardener would give them, principally
chrysanthemums and Christmas roses. It seems
he wasn't at all well disposed; couldn't imagine
why "ces dames" wanted to despoil the green-
houses "pour ce petit trou de St. Quentin."
We all worked hard for about an hour, and the
little church looked quite transformed. The red
carpet covered all the worn, dirty places on the
altar steps, and the pine branches were so high and
so thick that the walls almost disappeared. When
the old woman (gardienne) appeared she was
speechless with delight! As soon as we had
[214]
There was one handsome bit of old lace on a white nappe for the altar.
CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
finished there, we adjourned to the school-house,
and to our joy snow was falling quite heavy
flakes. Madame Isidore turned all the children
into a small room, and we proceeded to set up our
Tree. It was a great deal too tall, and if we hadn't
been there they would certainly have chopped it
off at the top, quite spoiling our beautiful point;
but as we insisted, they cut away from the bottom,
and it really was the regular pyramid one always
wants for a Christmas Tree. We put it in a big
green case (which we had obtained with great
difficulty from the gardener; it was quite empty,
standing in the orangerie, but he was convinced we
would never bring it back) , moss all around it, and
it made a great effect. The "garde de Borny"
arrived while we were working, and said he would
certainly come to the church in his "tenue de
garde"; our two keepers would also be there.
Thursday morning we went early (ten o'clock)
to St. Quentin and spent over two hours decorating
the Tree, ticketing and. arranging all the little gar-
ments. Every child in the neighbourhood was
hanging around the school-house when we arrived,
the entrance being strictly forbidden until after the
service, when the Tree would be lighted. I ex-
pressed great surprise at seeing the children at the
school on a holiday, and there were broad grins
as they answered, "Madame Waddington nous a
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dit de venir." It had snowed all night, and the
clouds were low and gray, and looked as if they
were still full of snow. The going was extremely
difficult; not that the snow was very deep, but
there was enough to make the roads very slippery.
We had the horses "ferres a glace," and even the
donkey had nails on his shoes. The country looked
beautiful the poor little village quite picturesque,
snow on all the dark roofs, and the church standing
out splendidly from its carpet of snow the tall
pines not quite covered, and always the curtain of
forest shutting in the valley.
We left the maids to breakfast with the keeper,
and promised to be back at three o'clock punctu-
ally. Our coachman, Hubert, generally objects
strongly to taking out his horses in bad weather on
rough country roads and making three or four
trips backward and forward; but to-day he was
quite serene. He comes from that part of the
neighbourhood and is related to half the village.
Our progress was slow, as we stopped a good deal.
It was a pretty sight as we got near St. Quentin:
the church, brightly lighted, stood out well on the
top of the hill against a background of tall trees,
the branches just tipped with snow. The bell was
ringing, the big doors wide open, sending out a
glow of warmth and colour, and the carpet of white
untrodden country snow was quite intact, except a
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CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
little pathway made by the feet of the men who had
brought up the harmonium. The red carpet and
bright chrysanthemums made a fine effect of
colour, and the little "niche" (it could hardly be
called a chapel) of the Virgin was quite charming,
all dressed with greens and white flowers, our tall
Italian candles making a grand show.
The La Ferte contingent had arrived. They
had much difficulty in getting the omnibus up to
the church, as it was heavy with the harmonium on
top; however, everybody got out and walked up
the hill, and all went off well. The Abbe was
robing, with his two choir children, in the minute
sacristy, and the two good Sisters were standing at
the gate with all their little flock about ten girls,
I should think. There were people in every direc-
tion, of all sizes and ages some women carrying
a baby in their arms and pushing one or two others
hi a cart, some wretched old people so bent and
wrinkled one couldn't imagine how they could
crawl from one room to another. A miserable old
man bent double, really, leaning on a child and
walking with two canes, was pointed out to me as
the "pere Colin," who makes the "margottins"
(bundles of little dry sticks used for making the
fires) for the chateau. However, they were all
streaming up the slippery hill-side, quite unmind-
ful of cold or fatigue. We walked up, too, and I
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went first to the school-house to see if our provisions
had come. Food was also a vexed question, as tea
and buns, which would seem natural to us, were
unknown in these parts. After many consulta-
tions with the women about us lessiveuses (wash-
erwomen), keepers' wives, etc, we decided upon
hot wine and brioches. The Mayor undertook to
supply the wine and the glasses, and we ordered
the brioches from the Hotel du Sauvage at La
Ferte ; the son of the house is a very good patissier.
It is a funny, old-fashioned little hotel, not very
clean, but has an excellent cuisine, also a wonderful
sign board a bright red naked savage, with
feathers in his hair and a club in his hand rather
like the primitive pictures of North American
Indians in our school-books.
Everything was there, and the children just
forming the procession to walk to the church.
Some of the farmers' wives were also waiting for
us at the school-house, so I only had a moment to
go into the big class-room to see if the Tree looked
all right. It was quite ready, and we agreed that
the two big boys with the keeper should begin to
light it as soon as the service was over. Madame
Isidore (the schoolmistress) was rather unhappy
about the quantity of people. There were many
more than thirty children, but Henrietta and Pau-
line had made up a bundle of extras, and I was
[218]
They were all streaming up the slippery hillside.
CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
sure there would be enough. She told us people
had been on the way since nine in the morning
women and children arriving cold and wet and
draggled, but determined to see everything. She
showed me one woman from Chezy, the next village
(some distance off, as our part of the country is
very scantily populated; it is all great farms and
forests; one can go miles without seeing a trace of
habitation). She had arrived quite early with two
children, a boy and a girl of seven and eight, and
a small baby in her arms; and when Madame
Isidore remonstrated, saying the fete was for her
school only, not for the entire country-side, the
woman answered that Madame always smiled and
spoke so nicely to her when she passed on horse-
back that she was sure she would want her to come.
The French peasants love to be spoken to, always
answer civilly, and are interested in the horses,
or the donkey, or the children anything that
passes.
We couldn't loiter, as the bell was tolling, the
children already at the church, and some one rushed
down to say that " M. le Cure attendait ces dames
pour commencer son office." There was quite a
crowd on the little " place," everybody waiting for
us to come in. We let the children troop in first,
sitting on benches on one side. In front of the
altar there were rows of chairs for the "quality."
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
The Sisters and their girls sat close up to the har-
monium, and on a table near, covered with a pretty
white linen cloth trimmed with fine old lace (part
of the church property), was the Enfant Jesus in
his cradle. This was to be a great surprise to me.
When it was decided that the Sisters should come
to the fete with some of the bigger girls, and bring
the Enfant Jesus, they thought there must be a
new dress for the "babe," so every child subscribed
a sou, and the dress was made by the couturiere
of La Ferte. It was a surprise, for the Enfant
Jesus was attired in a pink satin garment with the
high puffed fashionable sleeves we were all wearing!
However, I concealed my feelings, the good Sisters
were so naively pleased. I could only hope the
children would think the sleeves were wings.
As soon as the party from the chateau was seated,
every one crowded in, and there were not seats
enough, nor room enough in the little church; so
the big doors remained open (it was fairly warm
with the lights and the people), and there were
nearly as many people outside as in. The three
keepers (Garde de Borny and our two) looked
very imposing. They are all big men, and their
belts and gun-barrels bright and shining. They
stood at the doors to keep order. The Mayor,
too, was there, in a black coat and white cravat,
but he came up to the top of the church and sat
[220]
CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
in the same row with me. He didn't have on his
tricoloured scarf, so I suppose he doesn't possess
one.
It was a pretty, simple service. When the cure*
and his two choir children in their short, white
surplices and red petticoats came up the aisle, the
choir sang the fine old hymn "Adeste Fideles,"
the congregation all joining in. We sang, too, the
English words ("Oh, come, all ye Faithful"); we
didn't know the Latin ones, but hoped nobody
would notice. There were one or two prayers and
a pretty, short address, talking of the wonderful
Christmas night so many years ago, when the
bright star guided the shepherds through the cold
winter night to the stable where the heavenly babe
was born. The children listened most attentively,
and as all the boys in the village begin life as
shepherds and cow-boys, they were wildly inter-
ested. Then there was a benediction, and at the
end all the children in procession passed before
the Enfant Jesus and kissed his foot. It was
pretty to see the little ones standing up on tip-toe
to get to the little foot, and the mothers holding
up their babes. While this was going on, the
choir sang the Noel Breton of Holmes, "Deux
anges sont venus ce soir m'apporter de bien
belles choses." There was some little delay in
getting the children into procession again to go
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
down to the school-house. They had been super-
naturally good, but were so impatient to see the
Tree that it was difficult to hold them. Henrietta
and Pauline hurried on to light the Tree. I waited
for the Abbe. He was much pleased with the
attendance, and spoke so nicely to all the people.
We found the children all assembled in the small
room at the school-house, and as soon as we could
get through the crowd we let them come in. The
Tree was quite beautiful, all white candles
quantities shiny ornaments and small toys, dolls,
trumpets, drums, and the yellow and red bags of
"dragees" hanging on the branches. It went
straight up to the ceiling, and quite on top was a
big gold star, the manufacture of which had been
a source of great tribulation at the chateau. We
forgot to get one in Paris, and sent in hot haste on
Wednesday to La Ferte for pasteboard and gold
paper; but, alas! none of us could draw, and we
had no model. I made one or two attempts, with
anything but a satisfactory result: all the points
were of different lengths and there was nothing
but points (more like an octopus than anything
else). However, Pauline finally produced a very
good one (it really looked like a star), and of course
the covering it with gold paper was easy. The
creche made a great effect, standing at the bottom
of the Tree with a tall candle on each side. All
...
o 4-
All the children in procession passed.
CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
the big toys and clothes were put on a table behind,
where we all sat. Then the door was opened;
there was a rush at first, but the school-mistress
kept strict order. The little ones came first, their
eyes round and fixed on the beautiful Tree; then
the bigger children, and immediately behind them
the "oldest inhabitants" such a collection of old,
bent, wrinkled, crippled creatures then as many
as could get in. There wasn't a sound at first,
except some very small babies crowing and choking
then a sort of hum of pleasure.
We had two or three recitations in parts from
the older scholars; some songs, and at the end
the "compliment," the usual thing "Madame et
chere Bienfaitrice," said by a small thing about
five years old, speaking very fast and low, trying
to look at me, but turning her head always toward
the Tree and being shaken back into her place by
Madame Isidore. Then we began the distribu-
tion the clothes first, so as not to despoil the Tree
too soon. The children naturally didn't take the
slightest interest in warm petticoats or tricots, but
their mothers did.
We had the little ones first, Francis giving to
the girls and Alice to the boys. Henrietta called
the names; Pauline gave the toys to our two, and
Madame Isidore called up each child. The faces
of the children, when they saw dolls, trumpets, etc.,
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
being taken off the Tree and handed to each of
them, was a thing to remember. The little girls
with their dolls were too sweet, hugging them tight
in their little fat arms. One or two of the boys
began to blow softly on the trumpets and beat the
drums, and were instantly hushed up by the
parents; but we said they might make as much
noise as they pleased for a few moments, and a fine
"vacarme" (row) it was the heavy boots of the
boys contributing well as they moved about after
their trains, marbles, etc.
However, the candles were burning low (they
only just last an hour) and we thought it was time
for cakes and wine. We asked the children if they
were pleased, also if each child had garment, toy,
and "dragees," and to hold them up. There was
a great scamper to the mothers to get the clothes,
and then all the arms went up with their precious
load.
The school-children passed first into the outer
room, where the keepers' wives and our maids
were presiding over two great bowls of hot wine
(with a great deal of water, naturally) and a large
tray filled with brioches. When each child had had
a drink and a cake they went out, to make room
for the outsiders and old people. Henrietta and
Pauline distributed the "extras"; I think there
were about twenty in all, counting the babies in
[224]
CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
arms also, of course, the girls from La Ferte who
had come over with the Sisters to sing. I talked
to some of the old people. There was one poor
old woman looked a hundred still gazing spell-
bound at the Tree with the candles dying out, and
most of the ornaments taken off. As I came up to
her she said: " Je suis bien vieille, mais je n'aurais
jamais cru voir quelque chose de si beau! II me
semble que le ciel est ouvert" poor old thing! I
am so glad I wasn't sensible, and decided to give
them something pretty to look at and think about.
There was wine and cakes for all, and then came
the closing ceremony.
We (the quality) adjourned to the sitting-room
of the school-mistress (where there were red arm-
chairs and a piano), who produced a bottle of better
wine, and then we "trinqued" (touched glasses)
with the Mayor, who thanked us in the name of
the commune for the beautiful fete we had made
for them. I answered briefly that I was quite hap-
py to see them so happy, and then we all made a
rush for wraps and carriages.
The Abbe came back to the chateau to dine,
but he couldn't get away until he had seen his
Sisters and harmonium packed safely into the big
omnibus and started for La Ferte. It looked so
pretty all the way home. It was quite dark, and
the various groups were struggling down the hill
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
and along the road, their lanterns making a bright
spot on the snow; the little childish voices talking,
laughing, and little bands running backward and
forward, some disappearing at a turn of the road,
the lantern getting dimmer, and finally vanishing
behind the trees. We went very slowly, as the
roads were dreadfully slippery, and had a running
escort all the way to the Mill of Bourneville, with
an accompaniment of drums and trumpets. The
melancholy plains of the Valois were transformed
to-night. In every direction we saw little twinkling
lights, as the various bands separated and struck
off across the fields to some lonely farm or mill.
It is a lonely, desolate country all great stretches
of fields and plains, with a far-away blue line of
forests. We often drive for miles without meeting
a vehicle of any kind, and there are such distances
between the little hamlets and isolated farms that
one is almost uncomfortable in the absolute soli-
tude. In winter no one is working in the fields
and one never hears a sound; a dog's bark is wel-
come it means life and movement somewhere.
It is quite the country of the "haute culture,"
which Cherbuliez wrote about in his famous novel,
"La Ferme du Choquart." The farms are often
most picturesque have been "abbayes" and mon-
asteries. The massive round towers, great gate-
ways, and arched windows still remain; occasion-
[226]
There was one po.ir old woman still gazing spellbound.
CHRISTMAS IN THE VALOIS
ally, too, parts of a solid wall. There is a fine
old ruin the " Commanderie," near Montigny,
one of our poor little villages. It belonged to the
Knights Templars, and is most interesting. The
chapel walls are still intact, and the beautiful roof
and high, narrow windows. It is now, alas! a
"poulailler" (chicken-house), and turkeys and
chickens are perched on the rafters and great beams
that still support the roof. The dwelling-house,
too, is most interesting with its thick gray walls, high
narrow windows, and steep winding staircase. I
was always told there were "donjons" in the cel-
lars, but I never had the courage to go down the
dark, damp, slippery staircase.
We were quite glad to get back to our big draw-
ing-room with the fire and the tea-table; for of
course the drawback to our entertainment was the
stuffiness (not to say bad smell) of the little room.
When all the children and grown people got in
most of them with damp clothes and shoes the
odour was something awful. Of course no win-
dow could be opened on account of the candles,
and the atmosphere was terrible. At the end, when
it was complicated with wine and cake and all the
little ones' faces smeared with chocolate and
" dragees," I really don't know how we stood it.
We had a very cheerful dinner. We compli-
mented the Abbe upon his sermon, which was
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
really very pretty and poetical. He said the chil-
dren's faces quite inspired him, and beyond, over
their heads, through the open door he got a glimpse
of the tall pines with their frosted heads, and could
almost fancy he saw the beautiful star.
We were all much pleased with our first " Christ-
mas in the Valois."
(828]
VII
A RACINE CELEBRATION
MAREUIL-SUR-OUROQ, April 20th, 1899.
I COULD scarcely believe I was in our quiet
little town of La Ferte-Milon to-day. Such a
transformation flags flying, draperies at all the
windows, garlands of greens and flowers across
the streets, and a fine triumphal arch all greens
and flowers arranged about the centre of the
Grande Rue. Many people standing about, look-
ing on, and making suggestions; altogether, an
air de fete which is most unusual hi these sleepy
little streets where nothing ever passes, except at
four o'clock, when the three schools come out, and
clatter down the street. The Ecole Maternelle
comes first, the good Mere Cecile bringing up the
rear of the procession, holding the smallest chil-
dren, babies three and four years old, by the
hand., three or four more clinging to her skirts,
and guiding them across the perilous passage of
the bridge over the canal. It is a pretty view from
the bridge. The canal (really the river Ourcq,
[229]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
canalisee), which has preserved its current and
hasn't the dead, sluggish look of most canals, runs
alongside of the Mail, a large green place with
grass, big trees, a broad walk down the centre, and
benches under the trees. It is a sort of promenade
for the inhabitants and also serves as a village
green, where all the fairs, shows and markets are
held. The opposite bank is bordered by quaint
old houses, with round towers and gardens, full of
bright flowers, running down to the water's edge.
There is one curious old colombier which has been
there for centuries; near the bridge there is a
lavoir, where there are always women washing.
They are all there to-day, but much distracted,
wildly interested in all that is going on and the
unwonted stir in the streets; chattering hard, and
giving their opinions as to the decoration of the
arch, which is evidently a source of great pride
to the town.
On a bright sunny day, when the red roofs and
flowers are reflected in the water, and it is not too
cold, their work doesn't seem very hard ; but on a
winter afternoon, when they have to break the ice
sometimes, and a biting wind is blowing down the
canal, it is pitiable to see the poor things thinly
clad, shivering and damp; their hands and arms
red and chapped with cold. On the other side of
the bridge, the canal wanders peacefully along
[230]
A RACINE CELEBRATION
through endless green meadows, bordered with
poplars, to Marolles, a little village where there
is the first ecluse on the way to Paris.
We had been talking vaguely all winter of do-
ing something at La Ferte-Milon to feter the bi-
centenaire of Racine. They were making prepara-
tions at Paris, also at Port Royal, and it seemed
hard to do nothing in his native place. His
statue in the Grande Rue is one of the glories of
La Ferte.
Jean Racine was born in La Ferte in 1639. He
lost both father and mother young, and was
brought up by his grandparents. He was sent
first to school at Beauvais, later, while still quite
a youth, to Port Royal. His stay there influenced
considerably his character and his writings; and
though he separated himself entirely from the
"Solitaires" during the years of his brilliant career
as poet and courtier, there remained always in his
heart a latent tenderness for the quiet green valley
of the Chevreuse, where he had passed all his
years of adolescence, listening to the good Fathers,
and imbibing their doctrines of the necessity of
divine grace to complete the character. His mas-
ters were horrified and distressed when his talent
developed into plays, which brought him into
contact with actors and actresses, and made him an
habitue of a frivolous Court.
[231]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
There is a pretty letter from one of his aunts, a
religieuse de Port Royal, begging him to keep away
from "des frequentations abominables," and to
return to a Christian life.
His career was rapid and brilliant. He was
named to the Academic Franaise in 1673, and
when he retired from the theatre was a welcome
and honoured guest at the most brilliant court
of the world. He was made private historian to
the King and accompanied him on various cam-
paigns. There are amusing mentions of the poets-
historians (Boileau was also royal historian) in
the writings of their contemporaries, " les messieurs
du sublime," much embarrassed with their military
accoutrements and much fatigued by the unwonted
exercise and long days on horseback. The King
showed Racine every favour. He was lodged at
Versailles and at Marly and was called upon to
amuse and distract the monarch when the cares of
state and increasing years made all diversions pall
upon him. He saw the decline and disgrace of
Madame de Montespan, the marvellous good for-
tune of Madame de Maintenon. His famous
tragedies of Esther and Athalie were written at
Madame de Maintenon 's request for her special
institution of St. Cyr, and the performances were
honoured by the presence of the King. Racine
himself directed the rehearsals and the music was
[232]
A RACINE CELEBRATION
composed by Jean Baptiste Moreau, organist of
St. Cyr. The youthful actresses showed wonder-
ful aptitude in interpreting the passionate, tender
verses of the poet. Young imaginations worked
and jealousies and rivalries ran high. After a
certain number of representations Mme. de Main-
tenon was obliged to suspend the performances in
public, with costumes and music. The plays were
only given in private at the Maison de St. Cyr; the
young scholars playing in the dress of the estab-
lishment. He made his peace with Port Royal
before he died. He submitted Phedre to his
former masters and had the satisfaction of being
received again by the "Grand Arnauld,"* who
had been deeply offended by his ingratitude and
his criticisms and ridicule of many of his early
friends and protectors. He asked to be buried
there, and his body remained until the destruc-
tion and devastation of Port Royal, when it
was removed to Paris and placed in the Church
of St. Etienne des Monts.
*"Le Grand Arnauld" (Antoine), one of the first and most in-
fluential of the celebrated "Solitaires" who established themselves at
Port Royal, and one of the founders of the famous sect of Jansenists
whose controversies with the Jesuits convulsed the whole religious
world in France during the years 1662-1668. He was followed in
his retreat by his mother (after the husband's death), his brother and
four sisters, one of whom became the "Mere AngeliqUe," Abbesse of
Port Royal.
[233]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
He returned many times to La Ferte-Milon, and
the great poet and private historian of the Roi
Soleil must often have climbed the steep little
street that leads to the ruins, and thought of the
changes, since the little boy lay on the grass at the
foot of the great walls, dreaming golden dreams
of the future, which for him were so brilliantly
realised.
In a small country town one is slow to adopt
new ideas, slower still to carry them out, but the
Mayor and cure were both most anxious to do
something in the birthplace of the poet, and that
was the general feeling in the Department. After
many discussions we finally arrived at a solution,
or at least we decided what we wanted: a special
service in the fine old church of Notre Dame,
which stands beautifully on the hill, close to the
ruins; a representation of the Comedie Fran9aise,
and of course a banquet at the Sauvage, with all
the official world, senators, Prefet, Academiciens
a band of music, a torchlight procession, and as
many distinguished visitors as we could get hold
of. Funds of course were a necessary item, but
all the countryside contributed largely, and we
knew that the artists would give their services
gratis.
We arranged a breakfast at my house in Paris
with Mons. Casimir-Perier, late President of the Re-
[234]
A RACINE CELEBRATION
public, who was always ready to lend his influence
for anything that interests the people, and teaches
them something of their great men, and Mons.
Claretie, Directeur of the Comedie Fran9aise, a
most cultivated, charming man. He is generally
rather chary of letting his pensionnaires play en
province, but this really was an occasion to break
through his rules, and he was quite ready to help
us in every way. We had also M. Sebline, Senator
of the Aisne, and 1'Abbe Marechal, cure of La Ferte-
Milon. We had wanted one of the Administra-
teurs of the Chemin de Fer du Nord to arrange
about a free transport for the actors, but there
seemed some trouble about getting hold of the
right man, and Sebline promised to see about
that.
The Abbe Marechal and I were very ambitious
for the theatrical part of the entertainment and
had views of Esther with the costumes, and
choruses of Moreau, but M. Claretie said that
would be impossible. It was difficult enough to
arrange in Paris with all the singers, instruments,
and costumes at hand and would be impossible
hi the country with our modest resources. I think
the idea of a tent on a village green rather frightened
him; and he didn't quite see the elite of his com-
pany playing in such a cadre no decor and
probably very bad acoustics. However, Sebline
[235]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
reassured him. He knew the tent and its capa-
bilities, having seen it figure on various occasions,
cornices agricoles, banquets de pompiers, at village
fetes generally, and said it could be arranged quite
well.
We discussed many programmes, but finally
accepted whatever M. Claretie would give an act
of " Les Plaideurs," and two or three of " Berenice,"
with Mme. Bartet, who is charming in that role.
The Abbe Marechal undertook the music in his
church, and I was sure he would succeed in having
some of the choruses of Esther. His heart was
quite set on it. Once he had settled our pro-
gramme, the conversation drifted away from the
purely local talk, and was brilliant enough. All
the men were clever and good talkers, and all well
up in Racine, his career, and the various phases
of his work.
From the classics we got into modern plays and
poets, and there of course the differences of opinion
were wide; but I think the general public (people
in the upper galleries) like better when they go to
the Fran9aise to see a classic piece Roman emper-
ors and soldiers, and vestal virgins and barbarians
in chains and to listen to their long tirades. The
modern light comedy, even when it treats of the
vital subjects of the day, seems less in its place in
those old walls. I quite understand one couldn't
[236]
A RACINE CELEBRATION
see Britannicus,* Mithridate, nor the Cid every
evening.
We came down here several times to see how
things were getting on, and always found the little
town quite feverishly animated. We had suc-
ceeded in getting the band of the regiment stationed
at Soissons. I wrote to the Colonel, who said he
would send it with pleasure, but that he couldn't
on his own authority. An application must be
made to the Ministere de la Guerre. There is
always so much red tape in France. One writes
and receives so many letters about anything one
wants to do a Christmas Tree in the school-house
a distribution of soup for the poor and old a
turn in a road to be rounded, etc. However, the
permission was graciously accorded for the band.
The Mayor's idea was to station it on the Mail,
where quantities of people would congregate who
couldn't get into the church or the tent.
We went one day to have tea with the Abbe
Marechal in his nice old presbytere; the salon
*I remember so well our cousin Arthur's description of his holidays
spent at his grandmother's chateau. Every evening they read aloud
some classical piece. When he had read Britannicus twice (the
second time to appreciate more fully the beauties which were lightly
passed over at first), he rebelled, had a migraine, or a sore throat,
something which prevented his appearing in the drawing-room after
dinner; and he and his cousins attired themselves in sheets, and stood
on the corner of the wall where the diligence made a sharp turn, fright-
ening the driver and his horses out of their wits.
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
opening out on a large, old-fashioned garden with
fine trees, and a view of the church towers in the
distance. He was quite pleased with all that he
had arranged for his church service. One of his
friends, Abbe Vignon, a most interesting man and
eloquent preacher, promised to deliver a lecture
on Racine from the pulpit; and M. Vincent d'lndy,
the distinguished composer and leader of the
modern school of music, undertook the music with
Mme. Jeanne Maunay as singer; he himself pre-
siding at the organ.
I tried to persuade the proprietors of all the
chateaux in the neighbourhood to come, but I
can't say I had much success. Some had gout-
some had mourning. I don't remember if any
one "had married a wife and therefore couldn't
come."
However, we shall fill our own house, and give
breakfast and dinner to any one who will come.
To-day we have been wandering about on the
green near the ruins, trying to find some place
where we can give our friends tea. The service
in the church will certainly be long, and before
the theatrical performance begins we should like
to arrange a little gouter but where? It is too
far to go back to our house, and the Sauvage, our
usual resort, will be packed on that day, and quite
off its head, as they have two banquets morning
[238]
A RACINE CELEBRATION
and evening. The "Cafe des Ruines," a dirty
little place just under the great walls of the chateau,
didn't look inviting; but there was literally nothing
else, so we interviewed the proprietor, went in to
the big room down stairs, which was perfectly im-
possible, reeking with smoke, and smelling of
cheap liquor; but he told us he had a "tres belle
salle" up stairs, where we should be quite alone.
We climbed up a dark, rickety little turning stair-
case, and found ourselves in quite a good room,
with three large windows on the green; the walls
covered with pictures from the cheap illustrated
papers, and on the whole not too dirty. We have
taken it for the afternoon, told the patron we would
come to-morrow, put up tables, and make as many
preparations as we could for the great day. He
was very anxious to furnish something some "vin
du pays;" but we told him all we wanted was fire,
plenty of hot water, and a good scrubbing of floor
and windows.
It is enchanting this afternoon. We are taking
advantage of the fine weather to drive about the
country, and show our friends some of our big
farms and quaint little villages. They look ex-
actly as they did a hundred years ago, "when
the Cossacks were here," as they say in the country.
Some of the inns have still kept their old-fashioned
signs and names. Near May, on the road to
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
Meaux, Bossuet's fine old cathedral town, there
is a nice old square red-brick house, "L'Auberge
du Veau qui Tete (The Inn of the Sucking Calf),
which certainly indicates that this is great farm-
ing country. There are quantities of big white
oxen, cows, and horses in the fields, but the roads
are solitary. One never meets anything except
on market day. The Florians who live in Seine
et Marne, which is thickly populated villages
and chateaux close together were much struck
with the loneliness and great stretches of wood
and plain.
We are praying for fine weather, as rain would
be disastrous. The main street looks really charm-
ing. The green arch is nearly finished, and at
night, when everything is illuminated, will be most
effective.
22nd. It rained yesterday afternoon and all
night not light April showers, but a good, steady
downpour. Francis and Ctesse. de Gontaut ar-
rived from Paris in his little open automobile.
Such a limp, draggled female as emerged from the
little carriage I never saw. They had had some
sharp showers ; pannes (breakdowns) , too, and she
says she pushed the carriage up all the hills. She
didn't seem either tired or cross, and looked quite
bright and rested when she reappeared at dinner.
[240]
A RACINE CELEBRATION
Various friends arrived this morning, and we
have been in La Ferte all the afternoon. The
draperies and festoons of flowers don't look any
the worse for the heavy rain, and at least it is
over, and we shall probably have sun to-morrow.
The tent is up on the green, and looks fairly large.
I don't think any one will see anything except
in the first eight or ten rows of chairs, but it seems
they will all hear. The stage was being arranged,
and, much to our amusement, they told us the
Empire chairs and tables had been lent by the
Abbe Marechal. He is a collectionneur, and has
some handsome furniture. We inspected our tea-
room, which didn't look too bad. Our men were
there with tables, china, etc., and when it is all
arranged we shall have quite a respectable buffet.
The landlord was very anxious to decorate the
tables with greens, flags, and perhaps a bust of
Racine with a crown of laurels, but we told him
it would be better not to complicate things.
The view was lovely to-day from the top of the
hill the ruins looking enormous, standing out
against the bright blue sky, and soft and pink at
the top where the outline was irregular and the
walls crumbling a little. We had some difficulty
in collecting our party, and finally discovered
Francis, Ctesse. de Gontaut and Christian! having
chocolate and cakes in the back parlour of the
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
grocer's shop (nothing like equality on these oc-
casions), who was telling them all the little gossip
of the town, and naming the radicals who wouldn't
go to the church.
We had a pleasant evening with music and
"baraque" which is not very fatiguing as a
mental exercise. I tried to send all the party to
bed early, and have come upstairs myself, but I
still hear the click of the billiard balls, and sounds
of merriment downstairs. It is a splendid star-
light night, the sky quite blue over the pines. I
think we shall have beautiful weather for our
fete. I have very vague ideas as to how many
people we shall have for breakfast and dinner
to-morrow, but the "office" is warned. I hope
we shan't starve.
April 24th. Monday.
We had a beautiful and most successful day
yesterday. All the household was stirring fairly
early, as we had to get ourselves in to La Ferte
before 12 o'clock. We started in all sorts of con-
veyances train, carriage, voiturette and found
the Grande Rue full of people. The official break-
fast was over, also the visit to the Mairie, where
there are a few souvenirs of the poet his picture,
acte de naissance,* and signature. The proces-
* Birth certificate.
A RACINE CELEBRATION
sion was just forming to climb up the steep, little
street that leads to the church, so we took a short
cut (still steeper), and waited outside the doors to
see them arrive. It was a pretty sight to see the
cortege wind up the path the Bishop of Soissons
and several other ecclesiastics in their robes, black-
coated officials, some uniforms the whole es-
corted by groups of children running alongside,
and a fair sprinkling of women in light dresses,
with flowers on their hats, making patches of
colour. The church was crowded one didn't re-
mark the absence of certain "esprits forts" who
gloried in remaining outside and the service was
most interesting. The lecture or rather "Eloge de
Racine" was beautifully given by the Abbe Vignot.
It was not very easy for a priest to pronounce from
the pulpit an eulogium on the poet and dramatic
author who had strayed so far from the paths of
grace and the early teachings of Port Royal, where
the "petit Racine" had been looked upon as a
model pupil destined to rise high in the ecclesias-
tical world; but the orator made us see through
the sombre tragedies of Phedre, Britannicus and
others the fine nature of the poet, who understood
so humanly the passions that tempt and warp the
soul, and showed a spirit of tolerance very remark-
able in those days. He dwelt less upon the
courtier; spoke more of the Christian of his last
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
days. He certainly lent to the " charm of the poet,
the beauty of his voice," for it was impossible to
hear anything more perfect than the intonation
and diction of the speaker.
There was a short address from Monseigneur
Deramecourt, Bishop of Soissons a stately figure
seated on the Episcopal throne in the chancel.
The music was quite beautiful. We had the
famous "Chanteurs de St. Gervais," and part of
the chceurs d'Esther, composed by Moreau, and
sung in splendid style by Mme. Jeanne Maunay,
M. Vincent dTndy accompanying on the organ.
The simple sixteenth century chaunts sung by the
St. Gervais choir sounded splendidly in the fine
old cathedral. The tones seemed fuller and richer
than in their Paris church.
We went out a little before the end to see what
was going on on the green. It was still quite a
climb from the church, and all the people of the
upper town had turned out to see the sight. It is
quite a distinct population from the lower town.
They are all canal hands, and mostly a very bad
lot. The men generally drink not enough to be
really intoxicated (one rarely sees that in France),
but enough to make them quarrelsome; and the
women almost all slatternly and idle. They were
standing at thei 1 * doors, babies in their arms, and
troops of dirty, ragged, pretty little children playing
[244]
A RACINE CELEBRATION
on the road, and accompanying us to the green,
begging for "un petit sou."
We saw the cortege winding down again, the
robes and banners of the clergy making a great
effect, and we heard in the distance the strains of
the military band stationed on the Mail echoes
of the Marseillaise and the "Pere la Victoire"
making a curious contrast to the old-world music
we had just been listening to in the church. Our
party scattered a little. Francis went down to
the station with his auto to get the Due and
Duchesse d'Albufera, who had promised to come
for the Comedie and dinner. They are neigh-
bours, and have a beautiful place not very far off
Montgobert, in the heart of the Villers-Cotteret
forest. He is a descendant of Suchet, one of
Napoleon's Marshals, and they have a fine picture
of the Marshal in uniform, and various souvenirs
of the Emperor. Francis had some difficulty in
making his way through the Grande Rue which was
packed with people very unwilling to let any
vehicle pass. However, they had a certain cu-
riosity about the little carriage, which is the first one
to appear in this part of the country where one
sees only farmers' gigs on two high wheels, or a
tapissiere, a covered carriage for one horse. How-
ever, as every one knew him they were good natured
enough, and let him pass, but he could not get any
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
further than the foot of the street too steep for
any carriage to venture.
It was a pretty sight as we got to the Place.
Quantities of people walking about many evident
strangers, seeing the ruins for the first time. There
was a band of schoolboys, about twenty, with a
priest, much excited. They wanted to go in the
tent and get good places, but were afraid of missing
something outside, and were making little excur-
sions in every direction, evidently rather worrying
their Director. The tent, fairly large, looked small
under the shadow of the great walls. We looked
in and found a good many people already in their
places, and saw that the first two or three rows
of red arm-chairs were being kept for the quality.
One of the sights was our two tall men standing
at the door of the rather dirty, dilapidated "Cafe
des Ruines," piloting our friends past the groups
of workmen smoking and drinking in the porch,
and up the dark, rickety staircase. I don't think
any one would have had the courage to go up, if
Henrietta hadn't led the way once up, the effect
of our banqueting-hall was not bad. The servants
had made it look very well with china and silver
brought from the house, also three or four fresh
pictures taken from the illustrated papers to cover
those which already existed, and which looked
rather the worse for smoke and damp. We were
[246]
A RACINE CELEBRATION
actually obliged to cover General Boulanger and
his famous black charger with a " Bois de Boulogne
le Matin," with carriages, riders, bicycles, pretty
women and children strolling about.
The view from the windows was charming, and
it was amusing to watch all the people toiling up
the path. We recognised many friends, and made
frantic signs to them to come and have tea. We
had about three-quarters of an hour before the
Comedie began, and when we got to the tent it
was crowded all the dignitaries Bishop, Prefet,
Senator, Deputy (he didn't object to the theatrical
performance), M. Henri Houssaye, Academician;
M. Roujon, Directeur des Beaux Arts, sitting in
the front row in their red arm-chairs, and making
quite as much of a show for the villagers as the
actors.
The performance began with the third act of
"Les Plaideurs," played with extraordinary en-
train. There were roars of laughter all through
the salle, or tent none more amused than the
band of schoolboys, and their youthful enjoyment
was quite contagious. People turned to look at
them, and it was evident that, if they didn't see,
they heard, as they never missed a point probably
knew it all by heart. Then came a recitation by
Mile. Moreno, who looked and spoke like a tragic
muse the remorse and suffering of Phedre. The
[247]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
end of the performance the two last acts of
Berenice was enchanting. Mme. Bartet looked
charming in her floating blue draperies, and was
the incarnation of the resigned, poetic, loving
woman; Paul Mounet was a grand, sombre, pas-
sionate Titus, torn between his love for the
beautiful Queen and his duty as a Roman to choose
only one of his own people to share his throne
and honours. The Roman Senate was an all-
powerful body, and a woman's love too slight a
thing to oppose to it. Bartet was charming all
through, either in her long plaintes to her Confi-
dante, where one felt that in spite of her repeated
assurances of her lover's tenderness there was
always the doubt of the Emperor's faith or in
her interviews with Titus reproaching him and
adoring him, with all the magic of her voice
and smile. It was a triumph for them both, and
their splendid talent. With no decor, no room,
no scenic illusions of any kind, they held their
audience enthralled. No one minded the heat,
nor the crowd, nor the uncomfortable seats, and
all were sorry when the well-known lines, said by
Mme. Bartet, in her beautiful, clear, pathetic
voice
"Servons tous trois d'exemple a 1'Univers
De 1'amour la plus tendre et la plus malheureuse
Dont il puisse garder 1'histoire douloureuse,"
[248]
A RACINE CELEBRATION
brought to a close the fierce struggle between love
and ambition.
As soon as it was over, I went with Sebline to
compliment the actors. We found Bartet, not in
her dressing-room, but standing outside, still in
her costume, very busy photographing Mounet,
superb as a Roman Emperor. He was posing
most impatiently, watching the sun slowly sinking
behind the ruins, as he wanted to photograph
Berenice before the light failed, and the time was
short. They were surrounded by an admiring
crowd, the children much interested in the "beau-
tiful lady with the stars all over her dress." We
waited a few moments, and had a little talk with
them. They said the fete had interested them
very much and they were very glad to have come.
They were rather taken aback at first when they
saw the tent, the low small stage, and the very
elementary scenery were afraid the want of space
would bother them, but they soon felt that they
held their audience, and that their voices carried
perfectly. They were rather hurried, as they were
all taking the train back to Paris, except Bartet,
who had promised to stay for the banquet. I had
half hoped she would come to me, but of course
I was obliged to waive my claim. When I saw
how much the Prefet and the official world held
to having her when I heard afterwards that she
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
had had the seat of honour next to the Bishop I
was very glad I hadn't insisted, as she certainly
doesn't often have the opportunity of sitting next
to a Bishop. It seems he was delighted with her.
We loitered about some little time, talking to all
our friends. The view from the terrace was beau-
tiful directly at our feet the little town, which is
literally two streets forming a long cross, the
Grande Rue a streak of light and color, filled with
people moving about, and the air alive with laugh-
ter and music. Just beyond, the long stretches of
green pasture lands, cut every now and then by
narrow lanes with apple trees and hawthorn in
flower, and the canal winding along between the
green walls of poplars the whole hemmed in by
tke dark blue line of the Villers-Cotteret forest,
which makes a grand sweep on the horizon.
It was lovely driving back to Mareuil, toward
the bright sunset clouds. We had a gay dinner
and evening. I never dared ask where the various
men dressed who came to dinner. The house is
not very large, and every room was occupied
but as they all appeared most correctly attired, I
suppose there are resources in the way of lingerie
and fumoir which are available at such times, and
Francis's valet de chambre is so accustomed to
having more people than the house can hold that
he probably took his precautions.
[250]
A RACINE CELEBRATION
Francis started off for the banquet at the Sau-
vage in his voiturette, but that long-suffering vehicle
having made hundreds of kilometres these last
days, came to grief at the foot of "la Montagne de
Marolles," and he was towed back by a friendly
carter and arrived much disgusted when we were
half through dinner.
We heard all the details of the dinner from the
Abbe Marechal. Certainly the banqueting hall of
the Sauvage will not soon again see such a bril-
liant assembly. Madame Bartet was the Queen of
the Fete, and sat between the Bishop and the
Prefet. There were some pretty speeches from M.
Henri Houssaye, M. Roujon and of course the
toast of the President accompanied by the Mar-
seillaise.
The departure to the train was most amusing
all the swells, including Bartet, walking in the
cortege, escorted by a torch-light procession, and
surrounded by the entire population of La Ferte.
The Grande Rue was illuminated from one end
to the other, red Bengal lights throwing out splen-
didly the grand old chateau and the towers of
Notre Dame.
[251]
vm
A CORNER OF NORMANDY
BAGNOLES DE L'ORNE, July-August.
IT is lovely looking out of my window this morn-
ing, so green and cool and quiet. I had my
petit dejeuner on my balcony, a big tree in the gar-
den making perfect shade and a wealth of green
wood and meadow in every direction, so resting to
the eyes after the Paris asphalt. It seems a very
quiet little place. Scarcely anything passing a
big omnibus going, I suppose, to the baths, and
a butcher's cart. For the last ten minutes I have
been watching a nice-looking sunburned girl with
a big straw hat tied down over her ears, who is
vainly endeavouring to get her small donkey-cart,
piled high with fruit and vegetables, up a slight
incline to the gate of a villa just opposite. She has
been struggling for some time, pulling, talking,
and red with the exertion. One or two workmen
have come to her assistance, but they can't do any-
thing either. The donkey's mind is made up.
[252]
A CORNER OF NORMANDY
There is an animated conversation I am too high
up to hear what they say. Finally she leaves her
cart, ties up her fruit in her apron, balances a basket
of eggs with one hand on her head, and disappears
into the garden behind the gate. No one comes
along and the cart is quite unmolested. I think I
should have gone down myself if I had seen any-
one making off with any of the fruit. It is a de-
lightful change from the hot stuffy August Paris
I left yesterday. My street is absolutely deserted,
every house closed except mine, the sun shining
down hard on the white pavement, and perfect
stillness all day. The evenings from seven till ten
are indescribable a horror of musical concierges
with accordions, a favorite French instrument.
They all sit outside their doors with their families
and friends, playing and singing all the popular
songs, and at intervals all joining in a loud chorus
of "Viens Poupoule." Grooms are teaching lady
friends to ride bicycles, a lot of barking, yapping
fox-terriers running alongside. There is a lively
cross-conversation going on from one side of the
street to the other, my own concierge and chauffeur
contributing largely. Of course my balcony is un-
tenable, and I am obliged to sit inside, until happily
sleep descends upon them. They all vanish, and
the street relapses into perfect silence. I am
delighted to find myself in this quiet little Norman
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
bathing-place, just getting known to the French
and foreign public.
It is hardly a village; the collection of villas,
small houses, shops, and two enormous hotels sur-
rounding the etablissement seems to have sprung up
quite suddenly and casually in the midst of the
green fields and woods, shut in on all sides almost
by the Forest of Ardennes, which makes a beautiful
curtain of verdure. There are villas dotted about
everywhere, of every possible style; Norman
chalets, white and gray, with the black cross-
beams that one is so familiar with all over this
part of the country; English cottages with veran-
das and bow-windows; three or four rather pre-
tentious looking buildings with high perrons and
one or two terraces; gardens with no very pretty
flowers, principally red geraniums, some standing
back in a nice little green wood, some directly on
the road with benches along the fence so that the
inhabitants can see the passers-by (and get all the
dust of the roads). But there isn't much passing
even in these days of automobiles. There are two
trains from Paris, arriving at two in the afternoon
and at eleven at night. The run down from Paris,
especially after Dreux, is charming, almost like
driving through a park. The meadows are beauti-
fully green and the trees very fine the whole
country very like England in appearance, recalling
[254]
A CORNER OF NORMANDY
it all the time, particularly when we saw pretty
gray old farm-houses in the distance and every
now and then a fine Norman steeple.
There are two rival hotels and various small
pensions and family houses. We are staying at the
Grand, which is very comfortable. There is a
splendid terrace overlooking the lake; rather an
ambitious name for the big pond, which does,
however, add to the picturesqueness of the place,
particularly at night, when all the lights are re-
flected in the water. The whole hotel adjourns
there after dinner, and people walk up and down
and listen to the music until ten o'clock. After
that there is a decided falling off of the beau monde.
Many people take their bath at half past five in the
morning and are quite ready to go to bed early.
The walk down in the early morning is charming,
through a broad, shaded alley Allee de Dante.
I wonder why it is called that. I don't suppose
the poet ever took warm baths or douches in any
description of etablissement. I remember the tale
we were always told when we were children, and
rebelled against the perpetual cleansing and wash-
ing that went on in the nursery, of the Italian
countess who said she would be ashamed, if she
couldn't do all her washing in a glass of water. It
is rather amusing to see all the types. I don't
think there are many foreigners. I hear very little
[255]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
English spoken, though they tell me there are
some English here. We certainly don't look our
best in the early morning, but the women stand
the test better than the men. With big hats, veils,
and the long cloaks they wear now, they pass
muster very well and don't really look any worse
than when they are attired for a spin in an open
auto; but the men, with no waistcoats, a foulard
around their throats, and a very dejected air, don't
have at all the conquering-hero appearance that
one likes to see in the stronger sex.
The etablissement is large and fairly good, but
nothing like what one finds in all the Austrian and
German baths. When I first go in, coming out of
the fresh morning air, I am rather oppressed with
the smell of hot air, damp clothing, and many
people crowded into little hot bath-rooms. There
are terrible little dark closets called cabinets de
repos. Many doctors in white waistcoats and red
ribbons are walking about; plenty of baigneuses,
with their sleeves rolled up, showing a red arm that
evidently has been constantly in the water; people
who have had their baths and are resting, wrapped
up in blankets, stretched out on long chairs near
the windows; bells going all the time, cries of
"Marie-Louise," "Jeanne," "Anne-Marie." It is
rather a pandemonium. Our baigneuse, who is
called Marie-Louise, is upstairs. At the top of the
[256]
' V t ( >
L'Etablissement, Bagnoles de 1'Orne.
A CORNER OF NORMANDY
stairs there is a grand picture of the horse who dis-
covered the Bagnoles waters, a beautiful white
beast standing in a spring, all water lilies and
sparkling water. A lovely young lady in a trans-
parent green garment with roses over each ear,
like the head-dress one sees on Japanese women,
is holding his bridle. The legend says that a cer-
tain gallant and amorous knight of yore, having
become old and crippled with rheumatism, and
unable any longer to make a brave show in tour-
naments under fair ladies' eyes, determined to retire
from the world, and to leave his horse faithful
companion of many jousts in a certain green
meadow traversed by a babbling brook, where he
could end his days in peace. What was his sur-
prise, some months later, to find his horse quietly
standing again in his old stable, his legs firm and
straight, his skin glossy, quite renovated. The
master took himself off to the meadow, investigated
the quality of the water, bathed himself, and began
life anew with straightened limbs and quickened
pulses. The waters certainly do wonders. We see
every day people who had arrived on crutches or
walking with canes quite discarding them after a
course of baths.
The hotel is full, mostly French, but there are
of course some exceptions. We have a tall and
stately royal princess with two daughters and a
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
niece. The girls are charming simple, pretty, and
evidently much pleased to be away for a little
while from court life and etiquette. They make
their cure quite regularly, like any one else, walk-
ing and sitting in the Allee Dante. The people
don't stare at them too much. There are one or
two well-known men deputies, membres de ITn-
stitut but, of course, women are in the majority.
There is a band not very good, as the perform-
ers, some of them good enough alone, had never
played together until they came here. However, it
isn't of much consequence, as no one listens. I
make friends with them, as usual; something
always draws me to artists. The boy at the piano
looks so thin really as if he did not get enough to
eat. He plays very well, told me he was a premier
prix of the Conservatoire de Madrid. When one
thinks of the hours of work and fatigue that means,
it is rather pathetic to see him, contented to earn
a few francs a night, pounding away at a piano
and generally ending with a "cake walk," danced
by some enterprising young people with all sorts
of remarkable steps and gestures, which would
certainly astonish the original negro performers on
a plantation.
The view from the terrace at night is pretty
quantities of lights twinkling about among the
trees, and beyond, always on each side and in
[258]
A CORNER OF NORMANDY
front, the thick green walls of the forest quite
shutting in the quiet little place. We are usually
the last outside. It grows cooler as the evening
gets on, and I fancy it is not wise to sit out too late
after the hot bath and fatigue of the day.
It is a splendid automobiling country, and
every afternoon there is a goodly show of motors
of all sizes and makes waiting to take their owners
on some of the many interesting excursions which
abound hi this neighbourhood. We have an Eng-
lish friend who has brought over his automobile,
a capital one English make and we have been
out several times with him. The other day we
went to Domfront a lovely road, almost all the
way through woods, the forest of Audaine with its
fine old trees making splendid shade. We passed
through the Etoile well known to all the hunting
men, as it is a favourite rendez-vous de chasse. It is
a lovely part of the forest, a great green space with
alleys running off into the woods hi all directions.
Some of them, where the ground was a little hilly,
looked like beautiful green paths going straight
up to the clouds.
We kept in the forest almost all the way as we
got near Domfront the road rising all the time,
quite steep at the end, which, however, made no
perceptible difference in our speed. The big auto
galloped up all the hills quite smoothly and with
[259]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
no effort. It was a divine view as we finally
emerged from the woods miles of beautiful green
meadows and hedges stretching away on each
side and a blue line of hills in the distance. We had
been told that we could see Mont St. Michel and
the sea with our glasses, but we didn't, though the
day was very clear. Domfront is a very old walled
town, with round towers and a great square don-
jon, perched on the top of a mountain. A long
stretch of solid wall is still there, and some of the
old towers are converted into modern dwellings.
It looked out of place to see ordinary lace curtains
tied back with a ribbon and pots of red geraniums
in the high narrow windows, when one thought of
the rough grim soldiers armed to the teeth who
have stood for hours in those same windows
watching anxiously for the first glimpse of an
armed band appearing at the edge of the mead-
ows. The chateau must have been a fine feudal
fortress in its time and has sheltered many great
personages. William the Conqueror, of course
he has apparently lived in every chateau and sailed
from every harbour in this part of Normandy
Charles IX, Catherine de Medicis, and the Mont-
gomery who killed Henri II in tournament.
It was too early to go home, so we went on to
the Chateau de Lassay. We raced through pretty
little clean gray villages, looking peaceful and
[260]
j.ii Domfront some of the old towers are converted into modern dwellings.
A CORNER OF NORMANDY
sleepy and deserted and evidently quite accus-
tomed to automobiles. No one took much notice
of us. There were only a few old people and chil-
dren in the streets ; all the men were working in the
fields gathering in their harvest. Lassay is quite
a place, with hotels, shops, churches, and an old
Benedictine convent. We left the auto in the
square, as it couldn't get up the narrow, steep little
road to the hotel. There were swarms of beggars
of all ages old women, girls, children lining the
road before we got to the chateau. Monsieur B.
(deputy), who was with us, remonstrated vigor-
ously, particularly with stout, sturdy young women
who were pursuing us, but they didn't care a bit,
and we only got rid of them once we had crossed
the moat and drawbridge and got into the court-
yard, where a wrinkled and red-cheeked old woman
locked the door after us. The chateau is almost
entirely in ruins, but must have been splendid.
There is a sort of modern dwelling-house in the inner
court, but I fancy the proprietor rarely lives there.
It is enormous. There are eight massive round tow-
ers connected by a courtine (little green path) that
runs along the top of the ramparts. The big door that
opens on the park is modern, and makes decidedly
poor effect after the fine old pointed doorway that
gives access to the great courtyard. The park, with
a little care and a little money spent on it, would
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
be beautiful, but it is quite wild and uncared for.
There are splendid old trees, some of them cov-
ered entirely with ivy growing straight up into the
branches and giving a most peculiar effect to the
trees; ragged green paths leading to woods; run-
ning waters with little bridges thrown over them;
a splendid vegetation everywhere, almost a jungle
in some places all utterly neglected. The old
woman took us through the " casemates " dark
stone galleries with little narrow slits for windows
or to fire through; they used to run all around
the house, connected by a subterranean passage,
but they are now, like all the rest, half in ruins.
It was most interesting. We had not the energy,
any of us, to go up into the tower and see the view
we had seen it all the way, culminating at Dom-
front on the top of the mountain, and though very
beautiful, it is always the same great stretches of
green fields, hedges, and fine trees. It is a little
too peaceful and monotonous for my taste. I like
something bolder and wilder. A high granite cliff
standing out in the sea, with the great Atlantic
rollers breaking perpetually against it, appeals to
v me much more than green fields and cows stand-
ing placidly in little clear brooks, and clean, com-
fortable farmhouses, with pretty gray Norman
steeples rising out of the woods, but my compan-
ions were certainly not of my opinion and were
[262]
A CORNER OF NORMANDY
enchanted with the Norman landscape. We had
a long ride back in the soft evening light. I am
afraid to say how many kilometres we went in the
three hours we were away.
It has been warm these last days. There is a
bit of road absolutely without shade of any kind
we have to pass every time we go to the etablisse-
ment, which is very trying. I love the early morn-
ing walk, everything is so fresh and the air singu-
larly light and pure. It seems wicked to go into
that atmosphere of hot air and suffering humanity,
which greets one on the threshold of the bath-
house. To-day I have been driving with the
princess. She does not like the automobile when
she is making a cure says it shakes her too much.
We had a pretty drive, past the chateau of
Couterne, which is most picturesque. A beautiful
beech avenue leads up to the house, which is built
of brick, with round towers and a large pond or
lake which comes right up to the walls. It is of
the sixteenth century, and has been inhabited ever
since by the same family. One of the ancestors
was "chevalier et poete" of Queen Marguerite of
Navarre. I had a nice talk with the princess about
everything and everybody. I asked her if she had
ever read "The Lightning Conductor." As her
own auto is a Napier, I thought it would interest
her. I told her all the potins (little gossip) of the
[263]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
hotel that people said her youngest daughter
was going to marry the King of Spain, and the
general verdict was that the princess would make
" a beautiful queen." Every one is horror-struck at
the murder of the Russian Minister of the Interior,
and I suppose it is only a beginning.
This afternoon I have been walking in the
lovely woods at the back of the etablissement. It
is rather a steep climb to get to the point de vue
and troublesome walking, as the paths are dry and
slippery and the roots of the pine-trees that spread
out over the paths catch one's heels sometimes.
Some people spend all their day high up in the
pines take up books, seats, work, and gouter,
and only come down after six, when the air gets
cooler. We saw parties seated about in all direc-
tions and had glimpses of the white dresses, which
are a uniform this year, flitting through the trees.
It was very pretty, but not like the walls of Marien-
bad, with the splendid black pine forest all around
and every now and then a glimpse of a green Aim
(high field on the top of a mountain), with the
peasant girl in her high Tyrolean hat and clean
white chemisette standing on the edge, with her
cows all behind her and the bells tinkling in the
distance.
It was so warm this evening that we sat out until
ten o'clock. We had a visit from Comte de G.,
[264]
Ch&teau de Lassay.
A CORNER OF NORMANDY
son-in-law of our friend Mrs. L. S. He lives at
Peauville, and had announced himself for Monday
morning for breakfast at twelve. He did come for
breakfast, but on Tuesday morning, having been
en route since Monday morning at seven o'clock.
He was in an automobile and everything happened
to him that can happen to an automobile except
an absolute smash. He punctured his tires, had
a big hole in his reservoir, his steering gear bent,
his bougies always doing something they oughtn't
to. He dined and slept at Falaise; rather a
sketchy repast, but as he told us he could always
get along with poached eggs, could eat six in an
ordinary way and twelve in an emergency, we
were reassured; for one can always get eggs and
milk in Normandy. He arrived in a perfectly
good humour and made himself very pleasant.
He is an old soldier a cavalry officer and
doesn't mind roughing it.
The journey from Deauville to Bagnoles is
usually accomplished in three or four hours.
Falaise, the birthplace of William the Conqueror,
is an interesting old town, but looks as if it had
been asleep ever since that great event. The old
castle is very fine, stands high, close to the edge
of the cliff, so that the rock seems to form part of
the great walls. There is one fine round tower,
and always the grass walk around the ramparts.
[265]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
The views are beautiful. Looking down from one
of the narrow, pointed windows, still fairly pre-
served, we had the classic Norman landscape at
our feet beautiful green fields, enormous trees
making spots of black shade in the bright grass,
the river, sparkling in the sunshine, winding
through the meadows, a group of washerwomen,
busy and chattering, beating their clothes on
the flat stones where the river narrows a little
under the castle walls, and a bright blue sky over-
head.
i/ We walked through the Grande Place pictu-
resque enough. On one side the Church of La
Trinite, and in the middle of the Place the bronze
equestrian statue of William the Conqueror. It is
very spirited. He is in full armor, lance in hand,
his horse plunging forward toward imaginary
enemies. They say the figure was copied from
Queen Mathilde's famous tapestries at Bayeux,
but it looked more modern to me. I remember all
the men and beasts and ships of those tapestries
looked most extraordinary as to shape. Monsieur
R. took over the young princesses the other day in
his auto. They were very keen to see the cradle
of their race. It was curious to see the descend-
ants of the great rough soldier starting in an auto,
fresh, pretty English girls, dressed in the trot-
teuses (little short skirts) that we all wear in the
[266]
A CORNER OF NORMANDY
country, carrying their kodaks and sketching
materials.
All this part of the country teems with legends
of the great warrior. Years ago, when we were at
Deauville, we drove over to Dives to breakfast
one gets a very good breakfast at the little hotel.
We wandered about afterward down to the sea
(William the Conqueror is said to have sailed from
Dives), and into the little church where the names
of all the barons who accompanied him to England
are written on tablets on the walls. We saw vari-
ous relics and places associated with him and talked
naturally a great deal about the Conqueror. On
the way home (we were a large party in a brake)
one of our compatriots, a nice young fellow whose
early education had evidently not been very com-
prehensive, turned to me, saying; "Do tell me,
what did that fellow conquer?" I could hardly
believe my own ears, but unfortunately for him,
just at that moment we were walking up a steep
hill and everybody in the carriage overheard his
remark. It was received with such shouts of
laughter that any explanation was difficult, and
one may imagine the jokes, and the numerous and
fabulous conquests that were instantly put down
to the great duke's account. The poor fellow was
quite bewildered. However, I don't know if an
American is bound to know any history but that of
[267]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
his own country. I am quite sure that many
people in the carriage didn't know whom Poca-
hontas married, nor what part she played in the
early days of America. But it was funny all the
same.
We have been out again this afternoon in Mon-
sieur R.'s auto a charming turn. We started out
by the Etoile, as Monsieur R. wanted to show it
to some gentlemen who were with us. The drive,
if anything, was more lovely than the first time,
the slanting rays of the sun were so beautiful shin-
ing through the rich green foliage, making pat-
terns upon the hard, white road. We raced all
over the country, through countless little villages,
all exactly alike, sometimes flying past a stately
old brick chateau just seen at the end of a long,
beech avenue, sometimes past an old church
standing high, its gray stone steeple showing well
against the bright, cloudless sky, and a little
graveyard stretching along the hillside, the roads
bordered on each side with high green banks and
hedges, the orchards full of apple-trees, and the
whole active population of the village in the fields.
It is a beautiful month to be in Normandy, for
one must have sun in these parts. As soon as it
rains everything is gray and cold and melan-
choly, the forest looks like a great high black wall,
the meadows are shrouded in mist, and the damp
[268]
A CORNER OF NORMANDY
strikes through one. Now it is smiling, sunny,
peaceful.'
We have frightened various horses to-day; a
quiet old gray steed, driven by two old ladies in
black bonnets. They were too old to get out, and
were driving their horse timidly and nervously
into the ditch in their anxiety to give us all the
road. However, we slowed up and the horse
didn't look as if he could run away. Two big cart-
horses, too, at the end of a long line, dragging a
heavy wagon, turned short round and almost ran
into us; also a very small donkey, driven by a
little brown girl, showed symptoms of flight. I
don't know the names of half the villages we
passed through. Near Bagnoles we came to La
Ferte-Mace, which looks quite imposing as one
comes down upon it from the top of a long hill.
The church makes a great effect looks almost
like a cathedral. Bagnoles looked very animated
as we came back. People were loitering about
shopping quite a number of carriages and autos
before the door of the Grand Hotel, and people
sitting out under the trees in the gardens of the
different villas. It was decidedly cool at the end
of our outing; I was glad to have my coat.
This morning after breakfast, in the big hall,
where every one congregates for coffee, we had a
little political talk not very satisfactory. Every-
[269]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
body is discontented and everybody protests, but
no one seems able to stop the radical current.
The rupture with the Vatican has come at last,
and I think might have been avoided if they had
been a little more patient in Rome. There will
be all sorts of complications and bitter feeling, and
I don't quite see what benefit the country at large
will get from the present state of things. A general
feeling of irritation and uncertainty, higher taxes
for they must build school-houses and pay lay-
teachers and country cures. A whole generation
of children cannot be allowed to grow up without
religious instruction of any kind. I can under-
stand how the association of certain religious
orders (men) could be mischievous harmful even
but I am quite sure that no one in his heart
believes any harm of the women soeurs de
charite and teachers who occupy themselves with
the old people, the sick, and the children. In our
little town they have sent away an old sister who
had taught and generally looked after three gen-
erations of children. When she was expelled she
had been fifty years in the town and was teaching
the grandchildren of her first scholars. Every-
body knew her, everybody loved her; when any
one was ill or in trouble she was always the first
person sent for. Now there is at the school an
intelligent, well-educated young laique with all
[270]
A CORNER OF NORMANDY
the necessary brevets. I dare say she will teach
the children very well, but her task ends with the
close of her class. She doesn't go to church,
doesn't know the people, doesn't interest herself
in all their little affairs, and will never have the
position and the influence the old religieuse had.
I am sorry to go away from this quiet little
green corner of Normandy, but we have taken the
requisite number of baths. Every one rushes off
as soon as the last bath (twenty-first generally) is
taken. Countess F. took her twenty-first at six
o'clock this morning, and left at ten.
[271]
IX
A NORMAN TOWN
VALOGNES, August.
1SEEM to have got into another world, almost
another century, in this old town. I had
always promised the Florians I would come and
stay with them, and was curious to see their in-
stallation in one of the fine old hotels of the place.
The journey was rather long not particularly
interesting. We passed near Caen, getting a very
good view of the two great abbayes* with their
towers and spires quite sharply outlined against
the clear blue sky. The train was full. At almost
every station family parties got in crowds of
children all armed with spades, pails, butterfly-
nets, and rackets, all the paraphernalia of happy,
healthy childhood. For miles after Caen there
were long stretches of green pasture-lands hun-
dreds of cows and horses, some of them the big
Norman dray-horses resting a little before begin-
ning again their hard work, and quantities of long-
* Abbaye aux Hommes, Abbaye aux Dames.
[272]
A NORMAN TOWN
legged colts trotting close up alongside of their
mothers, none of them apparently minding the
train. We finally arrived at the quiet little station
of Valognes. Countess de Florian was waiting for
me, with their big omnibus, and we had a short
drive all through the town to their hotel, which is
quite at one end, a real country road running in
front of their house. It is an old hotel standing
back from the road and shut in with high iron
gates. There is a large court-yard with a grass-
plot in the middle, enormous flower-beds on each
side, and a fine sweep of carriage road to the
perron. A great double stone staircase runs
straight up to the top of the house, and glass doors
opposite the entrance lead into the garden. I had
an impression of great space and height and floods
of light. I went straight into the garden, where
they gave me tea, which was most refreshing after
the long hot day. They have no house party.
The dowager countess, Florian's mother, is here,
and there was a cousin, a naval officer, who went
off to Cherbourg directly after dinner. The
ground-floor is charming; on one side of the hall
there are three or four salons, and a billiard-room
running directly across the house from the garden
to the court-yard; on the other, a good dining-
room and two or three guests' rooms; the family
all live upstairs.
[273]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
It is a delightful house. My room is on the
ground-floor, opening from the corridor, which is
large and bright, paved with flag-stones. My
windows look out on the entrance court, so that I
see all that goes on. As soon as my maid has
opened the windows and brought in my petit
dejeuner, I hear a tap at the door and the coun-
tess's maid appears to ask, with madame's compli-
ments, if I have all I want, if I have had a good
night, and to bring me the morning paper. The
first person to move is the dowager countess, who
goes to early mass every morning. She is a type of
the old-fashioned French Faubourg St. Germain
lady; a straight, slender figure, always dressed in
black, devoted to her children and to all her own
family, with the courteous, high-bred manner one
always finds in French women of the old school.
She doesn't take much interest in the outside
world, nor in anything that goes on in other coun-
tries, but is too polite to show that when she talks
to me, for instance, who have knocked about so
much. She doesn't understand the modern life,
so sans gene and agitated, and it is funny to hear
her say when talking of people she doesn't quite
approve of, "Us ne sont pas de notre monde."
Then comes the young countess, very energetic
and smiling, with her short skirt and a bag on her
arm, going to market. She sees me at the window
[274]
Entrance to hotel of the Comte de Florian.
A NORMAN TOWN
and stops to know if I am going out. Will I join
her at the market ? All the ladies of Valognes do
their own marketing and some of the well-known
fish women and farmers' wives who come in from
the country with poultry would be quite hurt if
Madame la Comtesse didn't come herself to give
her orders and have a little talk. This morning
I have been to market with Countess Florian. The
women looked so nice and clean in their short,
black, heavily plaited skirts, high white caps, and
handkerchiefs pinned over their bodices. The
little stalls went all down the narrow main street
and spread out on the big square before the church.
The church is large, with a square tower and fine
dome nothing very interesting as to architecture.
Some of the stalls were very tempting and the
smiling, red-cheeked old women, sitting up behind
their wares, were so civil and anxious to sell us
something. The fish-market was most inviting
quantities of flat white turbots, shining silver
jnackerel, and fresh crevettes piled high on a
marble slab with water running over them. Four
or five short-skirted, bare-legged fisher girls were
standing at the door with baskets of fish on their
heads. Florian joined us there and seemed on the
best of terms with these young women. He made
all kinds of jokes with them, to which they re-
sponded with giggles and a funny little half-courte-
[275]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
sy, half-nod. Both Florians spoke so nicely to all
the market people as we passed from stall to stall.
The poultry looked very good such fat ducks and
chickens. It was funny to see the bourgeoises of
Valognes all armed with a large basket doing their
marketing; they looked at the chickens, poked
them, lifted them so as to be sure of their weight,
and evidently knew to a centime what they had to
pay. I fancy the Norman menagere is a pretty
sharp customer and knows exactly what she must
pay for everything. The vegetable stalls were
very well arranged the most enormous cabbages
I ever saw. I think the old ladies who presided
there were doing a flourishing business. I did
not find much to buy some gray knitted stockings
that I thought would be good for my Mareuil *
boys and some blue linen blouses with white em-
broidery, that all the carters wear, and which the
Paris dressmakers transform into very pretty
summer costumes. I bought for myself a paper
bag full of cherries for a few sous, then left
the Florians, and wandered about the streets
a little alone. They are generally narrow,
badly paved, with grass growing in the very
quiet ones. There are many large hotels stand-
ing well back, entre cour et jar din, the big
doors and gate-ways generally heavy and much
* Mareuil is the name of the village near our place in France.
[276]
A NORMAN TOWN
ornamented a great deal of carving on the fa-
cades and cornices, queer heads and beasts. Va-
lognes has not always been the quiet, dull, little
provincial town it is to-day. It has had its brilliant
moment, when all the hotels were occupied by
grands seigneurs, handsome equipages rolled
through the streets, and its society prided itself on
its exclusiveness and grand manner. It used to be
said that to rouler carrosse at Valognes was a titre
de noblesse, and the inhabitants considered their
town a "petit Paris." In one of the plays of the
time, a marquis, very fashionable and a well-known
courtier, was made to say: "II faut trois mois de
Valognes pour achever un homme de cour." One
can quite imagine "la grande vie d'autrefois" in
the hotel of the Florians. Their garden is en-
chanting quantities of flowers, roses particu-
larly. They have made two great borders of tall
pink rose-bushes, with dwarf palms from Bor-
dighera planted between, just giving the note of
stiffness which one would expect to find in an old-
fashioned garden. On one side is a large terrace
with marble steps and balustrade, and beyond that,
half hidden by a row of fruit-trees, a very good
tennis court. We just see the church-tower at one
end of the garden; and it is so quiet one would
never dream there was a town near. The country
in every direction is beautiful real English lanes,
[277]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
the roads low, high banks on each side, with haw-
thorn bushes on top one drives between thick
green walls. We have made some lovely excur-
sions. They have a big omnibus with a banquette
on top which seats four people, also a place by the
coachman, and two great Norman posters, who go
along at a good steady trot, taking a little gallop
occasionally up and down the hills.
Countess de Nadaillac, Countess Florian's sis-
ter-in-law, arrived to-day with her daughter for a
short visit. We had a pleasant evening with
music, billiards, and dominoes (a favorite game in
this country). The dowager countess always
plays two games, and precisely at half-past nine
her old man-servant appears and escorts her to
her rooms. We all break up early; the ten o'clock
bell is usually the signal. It rings every night, just
as it has done for hundreds of years. The town
lights are put out and the inhabitants understand
that the authorities are not responsible for any-
thing that may happen in the streets of Valognes
after such a dangerous hour of the night.
. . . There are some fine places in the neigh-
bourhood. We went to-day to Chiffevast, a large
chateau which had belonged to the Darus, but has
been bought recently by a rich couple, Valognes
people, who have made a large fortune in cheese
and butter. It seems their great market is London.
[278]
A NORMAN TOWN
They send over quantities via Cherbourg, which is
only twenty minutes off by rail. It is a splendid
place with a fine approach by a great avenue
with beautiful old trees. The chateau is a large,
square house looks imposing as one drives up.
We didn't see the master of the house he was
away but madame received us in all her best
clothes. She was much better dressed than we
were, evidently by one of the good Paris houses.
Countess Florian had written to ask if we might
come, so she was under arms. She was a little
nervous at first, talked a great deal, very fast, but
when she got accustomed to us it went more easily,
and she showed us the house with much pride.
There was some good furniture and one beautiful
coverlet of old lace and embroidery, which she had
found somewhere upstairs in an old chest of
drawers. They have no children such a pity, as
they are improving and beautifying the place all
the time. The drive home was delightful, facing
the sunset. I was amused with the Florians' old
coachman. He is a curiosity knows everybody
in the country. He was much interested in our
visit and asked if we had seen "la patronne"
said he knew her well, had often seen her on a
market day at Valognes, sitting in her little cart in
the midst of her cheeses and butter; said she was
a brave femme. How strange it must seem to
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
people like that, just out of their hard-working
peasant life and it is hard work in France to
find themselves owners of a splendid chateau and
estate, receiving the great people of the country.
I dare say in ten or twelve years they will be like
any one else, and if there were sons or daughters
the young men would get into parliament or the
diplomatic career, the daughters would marry
some impoverished scion of a noble family, and
cheeses and butter would be forgotten.
We had one delightful day at Cherbourg. The
Prefet Maritime invited us to breakfast with him
at his hotel. We went by rail to Cherbourg, about
half an hour, and found the admiral's carriage
waiting for us. The prefecture is a nice, old-
fashioned house, in the centre of the town, with a
big garden. We took off our coats in a large, hand-
some room upstairs. The walls were covered with
red damask and there were pictures of Queen
Victoria and Louis Napoleon. It seems the
Queen slept in that room one night when she came
over to France to make her visit to Louis Philippe
at the Chateau d'Eu. We found quite a party
assembled all the men in uniform and the women
generally in white. We breakfasted in a large
dining-room with glass doors opening into the gar-
den, which was charming, a blaze of bright summer
flowers. We adjourned there for coffee after
|"2801
Market women, Valognes.
A NORMAN TOWN
breakfast. The trees were big, made a good shade,
and the little groups, seated about in the various
bosquets, looked pretty and gay. When coffee and
liqueurs were finished we drove down to the quay,
where the admiral's launch was waiting, and had
a delightful afternoon steaming about the harbour.
It is enormous, long jetties and breakwaters
stretching far out, almost closing it in. There was
every description of craft big Atlantic liners,
yachts, fishing boats, ironclads, torpedoes, and
once we very nearly ran over a curious dark object
floating on the surface of the water, which they
told us was a submarine. It did not look com-
fortable as a means of transportation, but the
young officers told us it was delightful.
We got back to Valognes to a late dinner, having
invited a large party to come over for tennis and
dinner the next day. The Florians are a godsend
to Cherbourg. They are most hospitable, and
with automobiles the distance is nothing, and one
is quite independent of trains. Yesterday four of
our party went off to Cherbourg to make a cruise
in a torpedo-boat. The ladies were warned that
they must put on clothes which would not mind
sea- water, but I should think bathing dresses would
be the only suitable garments for such an expedi-
tion. They were remarkable objects when they
came home, Mademoiselle de Nadaillac's hat a
[281]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
curiosity, also her white blouse, where the red of
her hat-ribbons and cravat had run. However,
they had enjoyed themselves immensely at least
the girl. Countess de Nadaillac was not quite so
enthusiastic. They got into dry clothes and
played tennis vigorously all the afternoon.
We had a pleasant family evening. Mademoi-
selle de Nadaillac has a pretty voice and sang well.
Florian and I played some duets. I joined in the
dowager's game of dominoes, which I don't seem
to have mastered, as I lose regularly, and after she
left us, escorted by her faithful old butler (a light
shawl over his arm to put on her shoulders when
she passed through the corridors), we had rather
an interesting conversation about ways and man-
ners in different countries, particularly the way
young people are brought up. I said we were a
large family and that mother would never let us
read in the drawing-room after dinner. If we were
all absorbed in our books, conversation was im-
possible. We were all musical, so the piano and
singing helped us through. Madame de Florian,
whose father, Marquis de Nadaillac, is quite of the
/ old school, said they were not even allowed to work
or look at pictures in the salon after dinner! Her
father considered it disrespectful if any of his chil-
dren did anything but listen when he talked. They
might join in the conversation if they had anything
[282]
A NORMAN TOWN
intelligent to say. She told us, too, of some of the
quite old-fashioned chateaux that she stayed in as
a girl, and even a young married woman. There
was one fire and one lamp in the drawing-room.
Any one who wanted to be warm, or to work, was
obliged to come into that room. No fires nor lamps
allowed anywhere else in the house; a cup of tea
in the afternoon an unheard-of luxury. If you
were ill, a doctor was sent for and he ordered a
tisane ; if you were merely tired or cold, you waited
until dinner-time.
We have also made a charming expedition to
Quineville, a small seaside place about an hour
and a half's drive, always through the same green
country, our Norman posters galloping up all the
hills. We passed through various little villages,
each one with a pretty little gray, square-towered
church. There was plenty of passing, as it was
market day. We met a good many peasant
women carrying milk in those curious old brass
bowls one sees everywhere here. Some of them
are very handsome, polished until they shine like
mirrors, with a delicate pattern lightly traced run-
ning around the bowl. They balance them per-
fectly on their heads and walk along at a good
swinging pace. They all look prosperous, their
skirts (generally black), shoes, and stockings in
good condition, and their white caps and handker-
[283]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
chiefs as clean as possible. Quineville is a very
quiet little place, no hotel, and rows of ugly little
houses well back from the sea, but there is a beau-
tiful stretch of firm white sand. To-day it was
dead low tide. The sea looked miles away, a long
line of dark sea-weed marking the water's edge.
There were plenty of people about; women and
girls with stout bare legs, and a primitive sort of
tool, half pitchfork, half shovel, were piling the
sea-weed into the carts which were waiting on the
shore. Children were paddling about in the nu-
merous little pools and making themselves wreaths
and necklaces out of the berries of the sea-weed
some of them quite bright-colored, pink and yel-
low. We wandered about on the beach, sitting
sometimes on the side of a boat, and walking
through the little pools and streams. It was a
lonely bit of water. We didn't see a sail. The sea
looked like a great blue plain meeting the sky-
nothing to break the monotony. We got some
very bad coffee at the restaurant didn't attempt
tea. They would certainly have said they had it,
and would have made it probably out of hay from
the barn. The drive home was delicious, almost too
cool, as we went at a good pace, the horses know-
ing as well as we did that the end of their day was
coming. . . . We have been again to market this
morning. It was much more amusing than the
[284]
A NORMAN TOWN
first time, as it was horse day, and men and beasts
were congregated in the middle of the Cathedral
Square. There was a fair show splendid big
cart-horses and good cobs and ponies here and
there a nice saddle-horse. There were a good
many women driving themselves, and almost all
had good, stout little horses. They know just as
much about it as the men and were much inter-
ested in the sales. They told me the landlady of the
hotel was the best judge of a horse and a man in
Normandy. She was standing at the entrance of
her court-yard as we passed the hotel on our way
home, a comely, buxom figure, dressed like all the
rest in a short black skirt and sabots. She was
exchanging smiling greetings and jokes with every
one who passed and keeping order with the crowds
of farmers, drivers, and horse-dealers who were
jostling through the big open doors and clamoring
for food for themselves and their animals. She
was the type of the hard-working, capable French-
woman of whom there are thousands in France.
Some years ago I was on the committee for a great
sale we had in our arrondissement in Paris for the
benefit of " L' Assistance par le Travail," an excel-
lent work which we are all much interested in. I
was in charge of the buffet, and thought it better
to apply at once to one of the great caterers, Potel
and Chabot, and see what they could do for us.
[285]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
We made an appointment, and Mme. de B. and
I drove down to the place. The manager was out,
but they told us that Madame was waiting for us
in the back shop. We found rather a pretty woman,
very well dressed in velvet, with diamond ear-rings,
and I was put out at first thought that didn't look
like business. However, we talked a few minutes;
she said her husband was obliged to go to the
country, but would certainly come and see me the
next day. Then she stepped up to her desk, where
there was a big book open, said she understood we
wished to give an order for a buffet for a charity
sale, and was at once absorbed in sandwiches, tea
and coffee, orangeade, and all the requirements for
such an occasion. She was perfectly practical and
gave us some very useful hints said she supposed
we wanted some of their maitres d'hotel. We
thought not our own would do. That, she said,
would be a great mistake. They weren't accus-
tomed to that sort of thing and wouldn't know how
to do it. One thing, for instance they would cer-
tainly fill all the glasses of orangeade and punch
much too full and would waste a great deal. Their
men never filled a glass entirely, and consequently
gained two on every dozen. She told us how much
we wanted, made out the estimate at once, and
ended by asking if we would allow them to present
the tea as their contribution to the charity. It
[286]
A NORMAN TOWN
didn't take more than twenty minutes the whole
thing. She then shut up her book, went to the door
with us, thanked us for giving them the order, and
hoped we would be satisfied. That business capa-
bility and thriftiness runs through almost all
Frenchwomen of a certain class, and when I hear,
as of course I often do, the frivolous, butterfly,
pleasure-loving Frenchwoman spoken of, that en-
ergetic, hard-working bourgeoise comes into my
mind. We all who live in France know the type
well.
The whole nation is frugal. During the Franco-
German War, my husband, who had spent all the
dreary months of the invasion at his chateau
in the country, was elected a member of the
Assemblee Nationale, which met at Bordeaux.
They were entirely cut off from Paris, surrounded
by Prussian troops on all sides, and he couldn't
get any money. Whatever he had had at the be-
ginning of the war had been spent sending off
recruits for one of the great army corps near his
place. It was impossible to communicate with his
banker or any friends in Paris, and yet he couldn't
start without funds. He applied to the notary of
La Ferte-Milon, the little town nearest the cha-
teau. He asked how much he wanted. W. said
about 10,000 francs. The notary said, "Give me
two days and I will get it for you." He appeared
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
three days afterward, bringing the 10,000 francs
a great deal of it in large silver five-franc pieces,
very difficult to carry. He had collected the whole
sum from small farmers and peasants in the neigh-
bourhood the five-franc pieces coming always
from the peasants, sometimes fifty sewed up in a
mattress or in the woman's thick, wadded Sunday
skirt. He said he could get as much more if W.
wanted it. It seems impossible for the peasant to
part with his money or invest it. He must keep it
well hidden, but in his possession.
. . . We had a pretty drive this afternoon to
one of Florian's farms, down a little green lane,
some distance from the high-road and so hidden
by the big trees that we saw nothing until we got
close to the gate. It was late all the cows coming
home, the great Norman horses drinking at the
trough, two girls with bare legs and high caps call-
ing all the fowl to supper, and the farmer's wife,
with a baby in her arms and another child, almost
a baby, pulling at her skirts, seated on a stone
bench underneath a big apple-tree, its branches
heavy with fruit. She was superintending the work
of the farm-yard and seeing that the two girls
didn't waste a minute of their time, nor a grain of
the seed with which they were feeding the chick-
ens. A little clear, sparkling stream was meander-
ing through the meadows, tall poplars on each
[288]
Old gate-way, Valognes.
A NORMAN TOWN
side, and quite at the end of the stretch of green
fields there was the low blue line of the sea. The
farm-house is a large, old-fashioned building with
one or two good rooms. It had evidently been a
small manor house. One of the rooms is charm-
ing, with handsome panels of dark carved wood.
It seemed a pity to leave them there, and almost a
pity that the Florians could not have made their
home in such a lovely green spot, but they would
have been obliged to add to the house enormously,
and it would have complicated their lives, being
so far away from everything.
. . . We have had a last walk and flanerie this
morning. We went to the Hospice, formerly a
Benedictine convent, where there is a fine gate- way
and court-yard with most extraordinary carving
over the doors and gate monstrous heads and
beasts and emblems alongside of cherubs and
beautiful saints and angels. One wonders what
ideas those old artists had; it seems now such
distorted imagination. We walked through some
of the oldest streets and past what had been fine
hotels, but they are quite uninhabited now. Some-
times a bric-a-brac shop on the ground-floor, and
some sort of society on the upper story, but they
are all neglected and half tumbling down. There
is still splendid carving on some of the old gate-
ways and cornices, but bits of stone and plaster
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
are falling off, grass is growing between the paving
stones of the court-yards, and there is an air of
poverty and neglect which is a curious contrast to
the prosperous look of the country all around all
the little farms and villages look so thriving. The
people are smiling and well fed; their animals, too
horses, cows, donkeys all in good condition.
I have played my last game of dominoes in this
fine old hotel and had my last cup of tea in the
stiff, stately garden, with the delicious salt sea-
breeze always coming at four o'clock, and the ca-
thedral chimes sounding high and clear over our
heads. I leave to-morrow night for London, via
Cherbourg and Southampton.
[890]
X
NORMAN CHATEAUX
WE never remained all summer at our place.
August was a disagreeable month there
the woods were full of horse-flies which made rid-
ing impossible. No nets could keep them off the
horses who were almost maddened by the sting.
They were so persistent that we had to take them
off with a sharp stick. They stuck like leeches.
We generally went to the sea almost always to
the Norman Coast establishing ourselves in a
villa sometimes at Deauville, sometimes at Vil-
lers, and making excursions all over the country.
Some of the old Norman chateaux are charming,
particularly those which have remained just as they
were before the Revolution, but, of course, there
are not many of these. When the young ones suc-
ceed, there is always a tendency to modify and
change, and it is not easy to mix the elaborate luxu-
rious furniture of our times with the stiff old-
fashioned chairs and sofas one finds in the old
French houses. Merely to look at them one
[291]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
understands why our grandfathers and grand-
mothers always sat upright.
One of the most interesting of the Norman cha-
teaux is "Abondant," in the department of the
Eure-et-Loir, belonging until very recently to
the Vallambrosa family. It belonged originally to
la Duchesse de Tourzel, gouvernante des Enfants
de France (children of Louis XVI and Marie An-
toinette). After the imprisonment of the Royal
Family, Madame de Tourzel retired to her cha-
teau d'Abondant and remained there all through
the Revolution. The village people and peasants
adored her and she lived there peacefully through
all those terrible days. Neither chateau nor park
was damaged in any way, although she was known
to be a devoted friend and adherent of the un-
fortunate Royal Family. A band of half-drunken
"patriots" tried to force their way into the park
one day, with the intention of cutting down the
trees and pillaging the chateau, but all the villagers
instantly assembled, armed with pitchforks, rusty
old guns and stones, and dispersed the rabble.
Abondant is a Louis XV chateau very large
seventeen rooms en faade but simple in its
architecture. The Duchess occupied a large cor-
ner room on the ground-floor, with four windows.
The ceiling (which was very high) and walls cov-
ered with toiles de Jouy. An enormous bed a
[292]
NORMAN CHATEAUX
baldaquin was trimmed with the same toile and
each post had a great bunch of white feathers on
top.
In 1886, when one of my friends was staying at
Abondant, the hangings were 'the same which had
been there all through the Revolution. She told me
she had never been so miserable as the first time
she stayed at the chateau during the lifetime of the
late Duchesse de Vallambrosa. They gave her the
Duchesse de Tourzel's room, thinking it would
interest her as a chambre historique. She was
already nervous at sleeping alone on the ground-
floor, far from all the other inmates of the cha-
teau. The room was enormous walls nearly five
metres high the bed looked like an island in the
midst of space ; there was very little furniture, and
the white feathers on the bed-posts nodded and
waved in the dim light. She scarcely closed her
eyes, could not reason with herself, and asked the
next morning to have something less magnificent
and more modern.
In all the bedrooms the dressing-tables were
covered with dentelle de Binche* of the epoch,
and all the mirrors and various little boxes for
powder, rouge, patches, and the hundred acces-
sories for a fine lady's toilette in those days,
were in Vernis Martin absolutely intact. The
* Binche, name of a village in Belgium where the lace is made.
[293]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
drawing-rooms still had their old silk hangings
a white ground covered with wreaths of flowers
and birds with wonderful bright plumage hand-
painted framed in wood of two shades of light
green.
The big drawing-room was entirely panelled in
wood of the same light green, most beautifully
and delicately carved. These old boiseries were
all removed when the chateau was sold. After the
death of the Duchesse de Tourzel the chateau
went to her niece, the Duchesse des Cars who left
it to her niece, the Duchesse de Vallambrosa, a
very rare instance, in France, of a property de-
scending directly through several generations in
the female line.
It was sold by the Vallambrosas. The old wood
panels are in the Paris house of a member of
that family. The park was very large and beauti-
fully laid out, with the fine trees one sees all over
Normandy.
Twenty years ago a salle de spectacle "en ver-
dure" still existed in the park the seats were all
in grass; the coulisses (side scenes) made in the
trees of the park their boughs cut and trained
into shape, to represent green walls, a marble
group of allegorical figures at the back. It was
most carefully preserved the seats of the amphi-
theatre looked like green velvet and the trees
[294]
NORMAN CHATEAUX
were always cut in the same curious shapes. It
seemed quite a fitting part of the fine old place,
with its memories of past fetes and splendours,
before the whirlwind of liberty and equality swept
over the country.
Many of the chateaux are changing hands. The
majorat (entail) doesn't exist in France, and as
the fortunes must always be divided among the chil-
dren, it becomes more and more difficult to keep
up the large places. Life gets dearer every day
fortunes don't increase very few young French-
men of the upper classes do anything. The only
way of keeping up the big places is by making a
rich marriage the daughter of a rich banker or
industrial, or an American.
Our cousins, Comte and Comtesse d'Y , have
a pretty little old place not very far from Villers-
sur-Mer, where we went sometimes for sea-bath-
ing. The house is an ordinary square white stone
building, a fine terrace with a flight of steps lead-
ing down to the garden on one side. The park
is delightful many splendid old trees. Until a
few years ago there were still some that dated
since Louis XIV. The last one of that age a fine
oak, with wide spreading branches died about
two years ago, but they cannot make up their
minds to cut it down. I advised them to leave the
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
trunk standing (I think, by degrees, the branches
will fall as they are quite dead) cover it with ivy
or a vine of some kind, and put a notice on it of the
age of the tree.
The house stands high, and they have splendid
views on one side, from the terrace, a great ex-
panse of green valley looking toward Falaise on
the other, the sea a beautiful, blue summer sea,
when we were there the other day.
We went over from Villers to breakfast. It was
late in the season, the end of September one of
those bright days one sometimes has in September,
when summer still lingers and the sun gives beau-
tiful mellow tints to everything without being
strong enough to make one feel the heat. The road
was lovely all the way, particularly after we turned
off the high road at the top of the Houlgate Hill.
We went through countless little Norman lanes,
quite narrow, sometimes between high green
banks with a hedge on top, and the trees meeting
over our heads so narrow that I wondered what
would happen if we met another auto. We left
the sea behind us, and plunged into the lovely
green valley that runs along back of the coast line.
We came suddenly on the gates of the chateau,
rather a sharp turn. There was a broad avenue
with fine trees leading up to the house on one
side, meadows fenced off with white wooden pal-
[296]
NORMAN CHATEAUX
ings where horses and cows were grazing a
pretty lawn before the house with beds of begonias,
and all along the front, high raised borders of red
geranium which looked very well against the grey
stone.
We found a family party, Comte and Comtesse
d'Y , their daughter and a governess. We went
upstairs (a nice wooden staircase with broad shal-
low steps) to an end room, with a beautiful view
over the park, where we got out of all the wraps,
veils, and glasses that one must have in an open
auto if one wishes to look respectable when one
arrives, and went down at once to the hall where
the family was waiting.
The dining-room was large and light, high,
wide windows and beautiful trees wherever one
looked. The decoration of the room was rather
curious. The d'Y s descend like many Norman
families from William the Conqueror, and there
are English coats-of-arms on some of the shields on
the walls. A band which looks like fresco, but is
really painted on linen very cleverly arranged
with some composition which makes it look like
the wall runs straight around the room with all
sorts of curious figures : soldiers, horses, and boats,
copied exactly from the famous Bayeux tapestries,
the most striking episodes the departure of the
Conqueror from Dives thfe embarkation of his
[297]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
army (the cavalry most extraordinary long
queerly shaped horses with faces like people)
the death of Harold the fighting Bishop Odo
brother of the Conqueror, who couldn't carry a
lance, but had a good stout stick which apparently
did good service as various Saxons were flying
horizontally through the air as he and his steed
advanced; one wonders at the imagination which
could have produced such extraordinary figures,
as certainly no men or beasts, at any period of time,
could have looked like those. The ships were less
striking had rather more the semblance of boats.
However, the effect, with all the bright colour-
ing, is very good and quite in harmony with this
part of the country, where everything teems with
legends and traditions of the great Duke. They
see Falaise, where he was born, from their terrace,
sometimes. We didn't, for though the day was
beautiful,, there was a slight haze which made the
far-off landscapes only a blue line.
After breakfast we went for a walk in the park.
They have arranged it very well, with rustic
bridges and seats wherever the view was particu-
larly fine. We saw a nice, old, red brick house,
near the farm, which was the manoir where the
Dowager Countess lives now. She made over the
chateau to her son, in her life time, on condition
that he would keep it up and arrange it, which he
[298]
NORMAN CHATEAUX
has done very well. We made the tour of the park
passing a pretty lodge with roses and creepers
all over it and "Mairie" put upon a sign; d'Y
is mayor of his little village and finds it convenient
to have the Mairie at his own gate. We rested
a little in the drawing-room before going back, and
he showed us various portraits and miniatures of
his family which were most interesting. Some
of the miniatures are exactly like one we have of
father, of that period with the high stock and tight-
buttoned coat. The light was lovely so soft and
warm in the drawing-room, and as there were no
lace curtains or vitrages, and the silk curtains were
drawn back from the high plate glass windows,
we seemed to be sitting in the park under the
trees. They gave us tea and the good little cakes,
"St. Pierre," a sort of "sable," for which all the
coast is famous.
The drive home was enchanting, with a lovely
view from the top of the hill; a beautiful blue sea
at our feet and the turrets and pointed roofs of the
Villers houses taking every possible colour from
the sunset clouds.
We went back once more to a the dansant given
for her seventeen-year-old daughter. It was a
lovely afternoon and the place looked charming
the gates open carriages and autos arriving in
every direction people came from a great dis-
[299]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
tance as with the autos no one hesitates to under-
take a drive of a hundred kilometres. The young
people danced in the drawing-room Madame
d'Y had taken out all the furniture, and the
parents and older people sat about on the terrace
where there were plenty of seats and little tea-tables.
The dining-room with an abundant buffet was
always full; one arrives with a fine appetite after
whirling for two or three hours through the keen
salt air. The girls all looked charming the white
dresses, bright sashes, and big picture hats are so
becoming. They were dancing hard when we left,
about half past six, and it was a pretty sight as we
looked back from the gates long lines of sun-
light wavering over the grass, figures in white
flitting through the trees, distant strains of music,
and what was less agreeable, the strident sound of
a sirene on some of the autos. They are detest-
able things.
We were very comfortable at Villers in a nice,
clean house looking on the sea, with broad balco-
nies at every story, where we put sofas and tables
and green blinds, using them as extra salons.
We were never in the house except to eat and sleep.
Nothing is more characteristic of the French (par-
ticularly in the bourgeoise) than the thorough way
in which they do their month at the sea-shore.
They generally come for the month of August.
[300]
NORMAN CHATEAUX
Holidays have begun and business, of all kinds, is
slack. Our plage was really a curiosity. There is
a splendid stretch of sand beach at low tide one
can walk, by the shore, to Trouville or Houlgate
on perfectly firm, dry sand. There are hundreds
of cabins and tents, striped red and white, and
umbrellas on the beach, and all day long whole
families sit there. They all bathe, and a curious
fashion at Villers is that you put on your bathing
dress in your own house over that a peignoir,
generally of red and white striped cotton, and walk
quite calmly through the streets to the etablisse-
ment. Some of the ladies and gentlemen of ma-
ture years are not to their advantage. When they
can, if they have houses with a terrace or garden,
they take their meals outside, and as soon as they
have breakfasted, start again for the beach.
When it is low tide they go shrimp-fishing or walk
about in the shallow water looking for shells and
sea-weed. When it is high tide, all sit at the door
of their tents sewing, reading, or talking I mean,
of course, the petite bourgeoisie.
At other places on the coast, Deauville or Houl-
gate, the life is like Newport or Dinard, or any
other fashionable sea-side place, with automobiles,
dinners, dressing, etc. They get all the sea air and
out-of-door life that they can crowd into one
month. One lady said to me one day, "I can't
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
bathe, but I take a 'bain d'air' every day I sit on
the rocks as far out in the water as I can take off
my hat and my shoes and stockings."
There is a great clearing out always by the first
of September and then the place was enchanting
bright, beautiful September days, one could still
bathe, the sun was so strong; and the afternoons,
with just a little chill in the air, were delightful for
walking and driving. There was a pretty Norman
farm just over the plage at the top of the fa-
laise where we went sometimes for tea. They gave
us very good tea, milk, and cider, and excellent
bread and butter and cheese. We sat out of doors
in an apple orchard at little tables all the beasts
of the establishment in the same field. The chick-
ens and sheep surrounded us, were evidently ac-
customed to being fed, but the horses, cows, and
calves kept quite to the other end. We saw the
girls milking the cows which, of course, interested
the children immensely.
We made some charming excursions in the auto
went one Saturday to Caen such a pretty road
through little smiling villages every house with
a garden, or if too close together to allow that,
there were pots of geraniums, the falling kind, in
the windows, which made a red curtain dropping
down over the walls. We stopped at Lisieux a
quaint old Norman town, with a fine cathedral
[302]
NORMAN CHATEAUX
and curious houses with gables and towers one
street most picturesque, very narrow, with wooden
houses, their projecting roofs coming so far over
the street one could hardly see the sky in some
places. There were all kinds of balconies and
cornices most elaborately carved the wood so
dark one could scarcely distinguish the original
figures and devices, but some of them were extraor-
dinary, dragons, and enormous winged animals.
We did not linger very long as we were in our new
auto a Martini hill-climber built in Switzer-
land and, of course (like all automobilists), were
anxious to make as fast a run as possible between
Villers and Caen.
The approach to Caen is not particularly inter-
esting the country is flat, the road running
through poplar-bordered fields one does not see
it at all until one gets quite near, and then suddenly
beautiful towers and steeples seem to rise out of
the green meadows. It was Saturday market
day and the town was crowded every descrip-
tion of vehicle in the main street and before the
hotel, two enormous red 60-horse-power Mercedes
farmers' gigs and donkey carts with cheeses and
butter a couple generally inside the man with
his blue smock and broad-brimmed hat, the
woman with a high, clean, stiff-starched muslin
cap, a knit shawl over her shoulders. They were
[303]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
not in the least discomposed by the bustle and the
automobiles, never thought of getting out of the
way jogged comfortably on keeping to their side
of the road.
We left the auto at the hotel and found many
others in the court-yard, and various friends. The
d'Y s had come over from Grangues (their
place). He is Conseiller General of Calvados, and
market day, in a provincial town, is an excellent
occasion for seeing one's electors. There were also
some friends from Trouville-Deauville, most of
them in autos some in light carriages. We tried
to make a rendezvous for tea at the famous patis-
sier's (who sends his cakes and bonbons over half
the department), but that was not very practical,
as they had all finished what they had to do and
we had not even begun our sightseeing. However,
d'Y told us he would leave our names at the
tea-room, a sort of club they have established over
the patissier's, where we would be quieter and
better served than hi the shop which would cer-
tainly be crowded on Saturday afternoon. We
walked about till we were dead tired.
St. Pierre is a fine old Norman church with
beautiful tower and steeple. It stands fairly well
hi the Place St. Pierre, but the houses are much
too near. It should have more space around it.
There was a market going on, on the other side of
[304]
NORMAN CHATEAUX
the square fruit, big apples and pears, flowers
and fish being heaped up together. The apples
looked tempting, such bright red ones.
We went to the two abbayes both of them
quite beautiful St. Etienne Abbaye aux Hommes
was built by William the Conqueror, who was origi-
nally buried there. It is very grand quite simple,
but splendid proportions a fitting resting-place for
the great soldier, who, however, was not allowed
to sleep his last sleep, undisturbed, in the city he
loved so well. His tomb was desecrated several
times and his remains lost in the work of destruc-
tion.
We went on to the Abbaye aux Dames which is
very different ; smaller not nearly so simple. The
fa9ade is very fine with two square towers most
elaborately carved, the steeples have long since dis-
appeared; and there are richly ornamented galleries
and balustrades in the interior of the church, not
at all the high solemn vaulted aisles of the Abbaye
aux Hommes. It was founded by Queen Mathilde,
wife of William the Conqueror, and she is buried
there a perfectly simple tomb with an inscription
in Latin. There was at one time a very handsome
monument, but it was destroyed, like so many
others, during the Revolution, and the remains
placed, some years after, in the stone coffin where
they now rest. We hadn't time to see the many
[305]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
interesting things in the churches and in the town,
as it was getting late and we wanted some tea
before we started back. We found our way to the
patissier's quite easily, but certainly couldn't have
had any tea if d'Y had not told us to use his
name and ask for the club-room. The little shop
was crowded people standing and making frantic
dashes into the kitchen for chocolate and muffins.
The club-room upstairs was quite nice painted
white, a good glass so that we could arrange our
hair a little, one or two tables and we were
attended to at once. They brought us the spe-
cialite of the place light, hot brioches with
grated ham inside very good and very indigestible.
We went home by a different road, but it looked
just like the other fewer little hamlets, perhaps,
and great pasture fields, filled with fine specimens
of Norman dray horses and mares with long-legged
colts running alongside of them. It was late
when we got home. The lighthouses of Honfleur
and Havre made a long golden streak stretching
far out to sea, and the great turning flashlight of
St. Adresse was quite dazzling.
We went back over the same ground two or three
days later on our way to Bayeux. The town is not
particularly interesting, but the cathedral is beau-
tiful and in wonderful preservation the columns
are very grand every capital exquisitely carved
[306]
NORMAN CHATEAUX
and no two alike. Our guide, a very talkative per-
son unlike the generality of Norman peasants,
who are usually taciturn was very anxious to
show us each column in detail and explain all the
really beautiful carving, but we were rather hur-
ried as some of the party were going to lunch at
Barbieville Comte Foy's chateau.
On the same place as the cathedral is the Hotel
de Ville, with the wonderful tapestries worked by
the Queen Mathilde, wife of William the Con-
queror. They are really most extraordinary and
so well preserved. The colours look as if they had
been painted yesterday. I hadn't seen them for
years and had forgotten the curious shapes and
vivid colouring. We went to one of the lace shops.
The Bayeux lace is very pretty, made with the
"fuseau," very fine a mixture of Valenciennes and
Mechlin. It is very strong, though it looks deli-
cate. The dentellieres still do a very good business.
The little girls begin to work as soon as they can
thread their needle, and follow a simple pattern.
The F.'s enjoyed their day at Barbieville, Comte
Foy's chateau, very much. They said the house
was nothing remarkable a large square building,
but the park was original. Comte Foy is a racing
man, breeds horses, and has his "haras" on his
place. The park is all cut up into paddocks, each
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one separated from the other by a hedge and all
connected by green paths. F. said the effect from
the terrace was quite charming; one saw nothing but
grass and hedges and young horses and colts run-
ning about. Comtesse Foy and her daughters
were making lace. The girls went in to Bayeux
three or four times a week and took lessons from
one of the dentellieres.
[308]
XI
BOULOGNE-SUR-MER
ONE year we were at Boulogne for the summer
in a funny little house, in a narrow street
just behind the port and close to the Casino and
beach. There were a great many people all the
hotels full and quantities of automobiles passing
all day. The upper part of the town is just like
any other seaside place rows of hotels and villas
facing the sea some of the houses built into the
high green cliff which rises steep and almost men-
acing behind. Already parts of the cliff have
crumbled away in some place and the proprietors
of the villas find some difficulty in letting them.
The front rooms on the sea are charming, but the
back ones directly under the cliff with no air or
sun, are not very tempting. There is a fine digue
and raised broad walk all along the sea front, with
flowers, seats, and music stand.
It is a perfectly safe beach for children, for
though the channel is very near and the big Eng-
lish boats pass close to the shore, there are several
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sand banks which make the beach quite safe,
and from seven in the morning till seven at night
there are two boats au large and two men on
the beach, with ropes, life-preservers, and horns
which they blow whenever they think the bathers
are too far out. There is an "Inspecteur de la
Plage," a regular French official with a gold band
on his cap, who is a most important and amiable
gentleman and sees that no one is annoyed in any
way. We made friends with him at once, moy-
ennant une piece de dix francs, and he looked after
us, saw that our tents were put up close to the
water, no others near, and warned off stray children
and dogs who were attracted by our children's toys
and cakes.
The plage is a pretty slglit on a bright day.
There are hundreds of tents all bright-coloured.
When one approaches Boulogne from the sea the
beach looks like a parterre of flowers. Near the
Casino there are a quantity of old-fashioned ram-
shackly bathing cabins on wheels, with very small
boys cracking their whips and galloping up and
down, from the digue to the edge of the water, on
staid old horses who know their work perfectly-
put themselves at once into the shafts of the car-
riages never go beyond a certain limit in the sea.
All the bathers are prudent. It is rare to see
any one swimming out or diving from a boat. A
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BOULOGNE-STJR-MER
policeman presides at the public bathing place and
there are three or four baigneurs and baigneuses
who take charge of the timid bathers; one won-
derful old woman, bare-legged, of course, a hand-
kerchief on her head, a flannel blouse and a very
short skirt made of some water-proof material that
stood out stiff all around her and shed the water
she was the premiere baigneuse seventy years
old and had been baigneuse at Boulogne for fifty-
one years. She had bathed C. as a child, and was
delighted to see her again and wildly interested in
her two children.
There were donkeys, of course, and goats. The
children knew the goat man well and all ran to
him with their mugs as soon as they heard his pe-
culiar whistle. They held their mugs close under
the goat so that they got their milk warm and
foaming, as it was milked directly into their mugs.
The goats were quite tame one came always
straight to our tents and lay down there till his
master came. Every one wanted to feed them with
cakes and bits of sugar, but he would never let them
have anything for fear it should spoil their milk.
Another friend was the cake man, dressed all in
white, with his basket of brioches and madeleines
on his head then there were the inevitable Afri-
cans with fezes on their heads and bundles of silks
crepes-de-chine and ostrich feathers, that one
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
sees at every plage. I don't think they did much
business.
The public was not all distinguished. We often
wondered where the people were who lived in the
hotels (all very expensive) and villas, for, with
very rare exceptions, it was the most ordinary
petite bourgeoisie that one saw on the beach a
few Americans, a great many fourth-rate English.
They were a funny contrast to the people who
came for the Concours Hippique, and the Race
Week. One saw then a great influx of automo-
biles there were balls at the Casino and many
pretty, well-dressed women, of both worlds, much
en evidence. The chatelains from the neighbour-
ing chateaux appeared and brought their guests.
For that one week Boulogne was quite fashion-
able. The last Sunday of the races was a terrible
day. There was an excursion train from Paris and
two excursion steamers from England. We were
on the quay when the English boats came in and it
was amusing to see the people. Some of them had
left London at six in the morning. There were all
sorts and kinds, wonderful sportsmen with large
checked suits, caps and field glasses slung over
their shoulders a great many pretty girls gener-
ally in white. All had bags and baskets with bath-
ing suits and luncheon, and in an instant they were
swarming over the plage already crowded with
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BOULOGNE-SUR-MER
the Paris excursionists. They didn't interfere with
us much as we never went to the beach on Sunday.
F. was fishing all day with some of his friends
in a pilot boat. (They brought back three hun-
dred mackerel), had a beautiful day the sea
quite calm and the fish rising in quantities. C. and
I, with the children, went off to the Hardelot
woods in the auto. We established ourselves on
a hillside, pines all around us, the sea at our feet,
a beautiful blue sky overhead, and not a sound
to break the stillness except sometimes, in the
distance, the sirene of a passing auto. We had
our tea-basket, found a nice clear space to make a
fire, which we did very prudently, scooping out a
great hole in the ground and making a sort of
oven. It was very difficult to keep the children
from tumbling into the hole as they were rolling
about on the soft ground, but we got home with-
out any serious detriment to life or limb.
The life in our quarter on the quais is very dif-
ferent, an extraordinary animation and move-
ment. There are hundreds of vessels of every de-
scription in the port. All day and all night boats
are coming in and going out: The English steam-
ers with their peculiar, dull, penetrating whistle
that one hears at a great distance steam tugs that
take passengers and luggage out to the Atlantic
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liners, lying just outside the digue yachts, pilot
boats, easily distinguished by a broad white line
around their hulls, and a number very conspicu-
ously printed in large black letters on their white
sails, "baliseurs," smart-looking little craft that
take buoys out to the various points where they
must be laid. One came in the other day with
two large, red, bell-shaped buoys on her deck
which made a great effect from a distance; we
were standing on the pier, and couldn't imagine
what they were; "avisos" (dispatch-boats), with
their long, narrow flamme, which marks them as
war vessels, streaming out in the wind. Their
sailors looked very picturesque in white jer-
seys and blue berets with red pompons. Small
steamers that run along the coast from Calais
to Dunkirk others, cargo boats, broad and deep
in the water, that take fruit and eggs over
to England. The baskets of peaches, plums,
and apricots look most appetizing when they are
taken on board. The steamers look funny when
they come back with empty baskets, quantities of
them, piled up on the decks, tied to the masts.
Many little pleasure boats flat, broad rowing
boats that take one across the harbour to the
Gare Maritime (which is a long way around by
the bridge), a most uncomfortable performance
at low tide, as you go down long, steep, slippery
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BOULOGNE-SUR-MER
steps with no railing, and have to scramble into
the boat as well as you can.
Of course, there are fishing-boats of every de-
scription, from the modest little sloop with one
mast and small sail to the big steam trawlers
which are increasing every year and gradually re-
placing the old-fashioned sailing-boat. One al-
ways knows when the fishing-boats are arriving by
the crowd that assembles on the quay; that pe-
culiar population that seems natural to all ports,
young, able-bodied sailors, full of interest about
the run and the cargo old men in blue jerseys
who sit on the wall, in the sun, all day, and recount
their experiences various officials with gold bands
on their caps, men with hand carts waiting to
carry off the fish and fishwives their baskets
strapped on their backs hoping for a haul of crabs
and shrimps or fish from some of the small boats.
All the cargo of the trawlers is sold before
they arrive to the marieurs (men who deal exclu-
sively in fish), and who have a contract with the
big boats. There is no possibility of having a good
fish except at the Halles, where one can some-
times get some from one of the smaller boats, which
fish on their own account and have no contract;
but even those are generally sold at once to small
dealers, who send them off to the neighbouring
inland towns. In fact, the proprietor of one of
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the big hotels told me he had to get his fish from
Paris and paid Paris prices.
The fishwives, the young ones particularly, are
a fine-looking lot tall, straight, with feet and legs
bare, a little white cap or woollen fichu on their
heads they carry off their heavy baskets as
lightly as possible, taking them to the Halles where
all the fish must go. They are quite a feature of
Boulogne, the young fishwives. One sees them
often at low tide fishing for shrimps, carrying
their heavy nets on their shoulders and flat baskets
strapped on their backs into which they tip the fish
very cleverly. They are quite distinct from the
Boulonaises matelottes, who are a step higher in
the social scale. They always wear a wonderful
white cap with a high starched frill which stands
out around their faces like an aureole. They, too,
wear short full skirts, but have long stockings and
very good stout shoes not sabots which are also
disappearing. They turn out very well on Sun-
days. I saw a lot of them the other day coming
out of church all with their caps scrupulously
clean short, full, black or brown skirts; aprons
ironed in a curious way across the apron mak-
ing little waves (our maids couldn't think what
had happened to their white aprons the first time
they came back from the wash thought there had
been some mistake and they had some one's else
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BOULOGNE-SUR-MER
clothes they had to explain to the washerwoman
that they liked their aprons ironed straight) ; long
gold earrings and gold chains. They are hand-
some women, dark with straight features, a serious
look in their eyes. Certainly people who live by the
sea have a different expression there is something
grave, almost sad in their faces, which one doesn't
see in dwellers in sunny meadows and woodlands.
We went this morning with the Baron de G.,
who is at the head of one of the fishing companies
here, to see one of their boats come in and unload.
It was a steam trawler, with enormous nets, that
had been fishing off the English coast near Land's
End. There were quite a number of people
assembled on the quay a policeman, a garde du
port, an agent of the company, and the usual lot of
people who are always about when a fishing-boat
comes in. Her cargo seemed to be almost entirely
of fish they call here saumon blanc. They were
sending up great baskets of them from the hold
where they were very well packed in ice; half-
way up they were thrown into a big tub which
cleaned them took off the salt and gave them a
silvery look. They are put by hundreds into
hand-carts which were waiting and carried off at
once to the Halles. They had brought in 3,500
fish, but didn't seem to think they had made a
very good haul. The whole cargo had been sold
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
to a marieur and was sent off at once, by him, all
over the country.
Other boats were also sending their cargo to
the Halles. They had all kinds of fish soles,
mackerel, and a big red fish I didn't know at all.
I wouldn't have believed, if I had not seen it with
my own eyes, that such a bright-coloured fish
could exist. However, a very sharp little boy, who
was standing near and who answered all my ques-
tions, told me they were rougets. We went on to
the Halles a large gray stone building facing the
sea rather imposing with a square tower on top,
from which one can see a long way out to sea and
signal incoming fishing-boats. It was very clean
water running over the white marble slabs, and
women, with pails and brushes, washing and wip-
ing the floor. It is evidently a place that attracts
strangers ; many tourists were walking about one
couple, American, I think, passing through in an
automobile and laying in a stock of lobsters and
crabs (the big deep-sea crabs) and rougets. The
man rather hesitated about leaving his auto in the
streets ; they had no chauffeur with them, tried to
find a boy who would watch it. For a wonder
none was forthcoming, but two young fishwives,
who were standing near, said they would ; when the
man came back with his purchases he gave each
of them a five-franc piece, which munificence so
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BOULOGNE-SUR-MER
astounded them that they could hardly find words
to thank him.
Quantities of fish of all kinds had arrived some
being sold a la criee, but it was impossible to
understand the prices or the names of the fish at
least for us. The buying public seemed to know all
about it. The fishwives were very busy standing
behind the marble slabs with short thick knives,
with which they cut off pieces of the large fish
when the customer didn't want a whole one, and
laughing and joking with every one. Here and
there we saw a modern young person in a fancy
blouse, her hair dressed and waved, with little
combs, but there were not many. We bought
some soles and shrimps. M. de G. tried to
bargain a little for us, but the women were so
smiling and so sure we didn't know anything
about it, or what the current price of the fish was,
that we had not much success.
The trawlers are gradually taking away all the
trade from the old-fashioned fishing-boats. They
go faster, carry more and larger nets, and are, of
course, stronger sea-boats. They are not much
more expensive. They burn coal of an inferior qual-
ity and their machinery is of the simplest descrip-
tion. There is not the loss of life with them that
4
there must be always with the smaller sailing-boats.
Newfoundland is the most dangerous fishing
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
ground, as the men have so much to contend with
the passing of transatlantic liners and the cold,
thick fogs which come up off the banks all of
them prefer the Iceland fishing. The cold is
greater, but there is much less fog and very few big
boats to be met en route. Few of the Boulogne
boats go to Newfoundland. It is generally the
boats from Fecamp and some of the Breton ports
that monopolize the fishing off the Banks. It
seems that men often die from the cold and ex-
posure in these waters. From the old-fashioned
sailing-boats they usually send them off two by
two in a dory (they don't fish from the big boats) ;
they start early, fish all day; if no fog comes up,
they are all right and get back to their boats at
dark, but if a sudden fog comes on they often
can't find their boats and remain out all night,
half frozen. One night they can stand, but two
nights' cold and exposure are always fatal. When
the fog lifts the little boat is sometimes quite close
to the big one, but the men are dead frozen.
M. de G. tells us all sorts of terrible experiences
that he has heard from his men, and yet they all
like the life wouldn't lead any other, and have the
greatest contempt for a landsman.
There is a fruit stall at the corner of our street,
where we stop every morning and buy fruit on our
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BOULOGNE-SUR-MER
way down to the beach. We have become most
intimate with the two women who are there. One,
a young one with small children about the age of
ours (to whom she often gives grapes or cherries
when they pass), and the other a little, old, wrinkled,
brown-faced grandmother, who sits all day, in all
weathers, under an awning made of an old sail
and helps her daughter. She has very bright eyes
and looks as keen and businesslike as the young
woman. She told us the other day she had forty
grandchildren all the males, men and boys, sail-
ors and fishermen and "mousses" many of the
girls fishwives and the mothers married to fisher-
men or sailors. I asked her why some of them
hadn't tried to do something else there were so
many things people could do in these days to earn
their living without leading such a rough life. She
was quite astonished at my suggestion replied
that they had lived on the sea all their lives and
never thought of doing anything else. Her own
husband had been a fisherman belonged to one
of the Iceland boats went three or four times a
year regularly didn't come back one year no
tidings ever came of ship or crew it was God's
will, and when his time came he had to go, whether
in his bed or on his boat. And she brought up all
her sons to be sailors or fishermen, and when two
were lost at sea, accepted that, too, as part of her
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
lot, only said it was hard, sometimes, for the poor
women when the winter storms came and the wind
was howling and the waves thundering on the
beach, and they thought of their men ("mon
homme" she always called her husband when
speaking of him), wet and cold, battling for their
lives. I talked to her often and the words of the
old song,
" But men must work and women must weep,
Though storms be sudden, and waters deep,
And the harbour bar be moaning,"
came back to me more than once, for the floating
buoy at the end of the jetty makes a continuous
dull melancholy sound when the sea is at all
rough, and when it is foggy (the channel fogs come
up very quickly) we hear fog horns all around us and
quite distinctly the big sirene of Cap Gris Nez,
which sends out its long wailing note over the sea.
It is very powerful and is heard at a long distance.
The shops on the quay are an unfailing source
of interest to me. I make a tour there every morn-
ing before I go down to the beach. They have
such a wonderful variety of things. Shells of all
sizes enormous pink ones like those I always
remember standing on the mantel-piece in the
nursery at home brought back by a sailor brother
who used to tell us to put them to our ears and we
would hear the noise of the sea and beautiful
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BOULOGNE-SUR-MER
delicate little mother-of-pearl shells that are almost
jewels wonderful frames, boxes, and pincushions,
made of shells; big spoons, too, with a figure or a
ship painted on them knives, penholders, paper-
cutters and brooches, made out of the bones of big
fish tassels of bright-coloured sea- weed, corals,
vanilla beans curiously worked leather belts
some roughly carved ivory crosses, umbrella
handles, canes of every description, pipes, long gold
earrings, parrots, little birds with bright-coloured
feathers, monkeys an extraordinary collection.
I am sure one would find many curious speci-
mens if one could penetrate into the back of the
old shops and pull the things about evidently
sailors from all parts of the world have passed at
Boulogne. Still I don't hear many foreign lan-
guages spoken almost always French and Eng-
lish; occasionally a dark face, with bright black eyes,
strikes one. We saw two Italians the other day,
talking and gesticulating hard, shivering, too, with
woollen comforters tied over their caps. There
was a cold fog and we were all wrapped up. It
must be awful weather for Southerners who only
live when the sun shines and go to bed when it is
cold and gray. There are all sorts of itinerants,
petits marchands, on the other side of the quay,
looking on the water old women with fruit and
cakes children with crabs and shrimps dolls in
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Boulonaise costume fishwives and matelottes,
stalls with every description of food, tea, coffee,
chocolate, sandwiches, and fried potatoes. The
children bought some potatoes the other day
wrapped up in brown paper quite a big portion
for two sous and said they were very good.
The quais are very broad, happily, for every-
thing is put there. One morning there were quan-
tities of barrels. I asked what was in them. Salt,
they told me, for the herring-boats which are
starting these days. Nets, coils of ropes, big sails,
baskets, boxes, odd bits of iron, some anchors
one has rather to pick one's way. An automobile
has been standing there for three or four days. I
asked if that was going to Iceland on a trawler, but
the man answered quite simply, " Oh, no, Madame,
what should we do with an automobile in a fishing-
boat. It belongs to the owner of one of the ships,
and has been here en panne waiting till he can
have it repaired."
We went one evening to the Casino to see a " bal
des matelottes." It was a curious sight a band
playing on a raised stand a broad space cleared
all round it and lots of people dancing. The great
feature, of course, was the matelottes. Their cos-
tumes were very effective they all wore short, very
full skirts, different coloured jackets, short, with
a belt, very good stout shoes and stockings, and
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BOULOGNE-SUR-MER
their white frilled caps. They always danced to-
gether (very rarely with a man it is not etiquette
for them to dance with any man when their hus-
bands or lovers are at sea), their hands on each
other's shoulders. They dance perfectly well and
keep excellent time and, I suppose, enjoy them-
selves, but they look very solemn going round
and round until the music stops. Their feet and
ankles are usually small. I heard an explanation
the other day of their dark skins, clean cut features,
and small feet. They are of Portuguese origin.
The first foreign sailors who came to France were
Portuguese. Many of them remained, married
French girls, and that accounts for that peculiar
type in their descendants which is very different
from the look of the Frenchwoman in general.
There are one or two villages in Brittany where
the women have the same colouring and features,
and there also Portuguese sailors had remained
and married, and one still hears some Portuguese
names Jose, Manuel and among the women
some Annunziatas, Carmelas, etc. We had a
house in Brittany one summer and our kitchen
maid was called Dolores.
CAP GUIS NEZ.
We made a lovely excursion one day to Cap Gris
Nez Just at the end of a wild bit of coast about
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CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
twenty-five kilometres from Boulogne. The road
was enchanting on the top of the cliff all along the
sea. We passed through Vimereux, a small bath-
ing-place four or five miles from Boulogne, and
one or two other villages, then went through a
wild desolate tract of sand-hills and plains and
came upon the lighthouse, one of the most impor-
tant of the coast a very powerful light that all
inward-bound boats are delighted to see. There
are one or two villas near on the top of the cliff,
then the road turns sharply down to the beach
a beautiful broad expanse of yellow sand, reach-
ing very far out that day as it was dead low tide.
In the distance we saw figures; couldn't dis-
tinguish what they were doing, but supposed they
were fishing for shrimps, which was what our
party meant to do. The auto was filled with nets,
baskets, and clothes, as well as luncheon baskets.
The hotel a very good, simple one with a
broad piazza going all around it, was half-way
down the cliff, and the woman was very "com-
plaisante" and helpful said there were plenty of
shrimps, crabs, and lobsters and no one to fish.
She and her husband had been out at four o'clock
that morning and had brought back "quatre
pintes" of shrimps. No one knew what she
meant, but it was evidently a measure of some
kind. I suppose an English pint. She gave us a
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BOULOGNE-SUR-MER
cabin where the two young matrons dressed, or
rather undressed, as they reappeared in their
bathing trousers which stopped some little dis-
tance above the knee very short skirts, bare legs,
"espadrilles" on their feet, and large Panama hats
to protect them from the sun. The men had
merely rolled up their trousers. They went out
very far I could just make them out they
seemed a part of the sea and sky, moving objects
standing out against the horizon.
I made myself very comfortable with rugs and
cushions under the cliff I had my book as I knew
it would be a long operation. It was enchanting
sitting there, such a beautiful afternoon. We saw
the English coast quite distinctly. There was not
a sound no bathing cabins or tents, nobody on the
shore, but a few fishermen were spreading nets on
poles to catch the fish as the tide came up. The
sea was quite blue, and as the afternoon lengthened
there were lovely soft lights over everything; such
warm tints it might almost have been the Mediter-
ranean and the Riviera. A few fishing-boats
passed in the distance, but there was nothing to
break the great stillness not even the ripple of the
waves, as the sea was too far out. It was a curious
sensation to be sitting there quite alone the blue
sea at my feet and the cliff rising straight up be-
hind me.
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The bay is small two points jutting out on
each side, completely shutting it in. There are a
good many rocks the water dashes over them
finely when the tide is high and the sea rough. I
got rather stiff sitting still and walked about a little
on the hard beach and talked to the fishermen.
They were looking on amused and indulgently at
our amateurs, and said there were plenty of fish of
all kinds if one knew how to take them. They
said they made very good hauls with their nets in
certain seasons that lots of fish came in with the
tide and got stranded, couldn't get back through
the nets. One of them had two enormous crabs in
his baskets, which I bought at once, and we brought
them home in the bottom of the auto wrapped up in
very thick paper, as they were still alive and could
give a nasty pinch, the man said.
About five, I thought I made out my party more
distinctly; their faces were turned homeward, so
I went to meet them as far as the dry sand lasted.
I had a very long walk as the tide was at its lowest.
They came back very slowly, stopping at all the
little pools and poking their nets under the rocks
to get what they could. They had made a very
fair basket of really big shrimps, were very wet,
very hungry, and very pleased with their perform-
ance.
We had very good tea and excellent bread and
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BOULOGNE-SUR-MER
butter at the hotel. They gave us a table on the
piazza, in the sun which finished drying the gar-
ments of the party. I fancy they had gone in deeper
than they thought. However, salt water never
gives cold and nobody was any the worse for the
wetting. The woman of the hotel said we ought
to go to see a fisherman's hut, on the top of the
cliff near the lighthouse, before we went back.
The same family of fishermen had lived there for
generations, and it was a marvel how any one
could live in such a place. We could find our way
very easily as the path was marked by white stones.
So we climbed up the cliff and a few minutes'
walk brought us to one of the most wretched habi-
tations I have ever seen: a little low stone hut,
built so close to the edge of the cliff one would
think a violent storm must blow it over no win-
dows a primitive chimney, hardly more than a
hole in the roof a little low door that one had to
stoop to pass through, one room, dark and cold
the floor of beaten earth, damp and uneven, al-
most in ruts. There were two beds, a table, two
chairs, and a stove nondescript garments hanging
on the walls a woman with a baby was sitting at
the table another child on the floor both miser-
able little, puny, weak-eyed, pale children. The
woman told me she had six all lived there one
man was sitting on the bed mending a net, another
[329]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
on the floor drinking some black stuff out of a cup
I think the baby was drinking the same two or
three children were stretching big nets on the top
of the cliff they, too, looked miserable little
specimens of humanity, bare-legged, unkempt,
trousers and jackets in holes; however, the woman
was quite cheerful didn't complain nor ask for
money. The men accepted two francs to drink
our health. One wonders how children ever
grow up in such an atmosphere without light or
air or decent food.
The drive home was beautiful not nearly so
lonely. Peasants and fishermen were coming
back from their work women and children driv-
ing the cows home. We noticed, too, a few little,
low, whitewashed cottages in the fields, almost
hidden by the sand-hills, which we hadn't seen
coming out.
HABDELOT.
Hardelot was a great resource to us. It is a fine
domain, beautiful pine woods running down to
the sea a great stretch of green meadow and a
most picturesque old castle quite the type of the
chateau-fort. The castle has now been trans-
formed into a country club with golf-links, tennis,
and well-kept lawns under big trees which give
a splendid shade and are most resting to the eye
[330]
BOULOGNE-SUR-MER
after the glare of the beach. There is no view of
the sea from the castle, but from the top of the
towers on a fine day one just sees a quiver of light
beneath the sky-line which might be the sea.
The chateau has had its history like all the old
feudal castles on the sea-board and has changed
hands very often, being sometimes French and
sometimes English. It was strongly fortified and
resisted many attacks from the English before it
actually came into their possession. Part of the
wall and a curious old gate-way are all that re-
main of the feudal days. The castle is said to have
been built by Charlemagne. Henry VIII of Eng-
land lived in it for some time, and the prelimina-
ries of a treaty of peace between that monarch
and Franois I were signed there the French and
English ambassadors arriving in great state with
an endless army of retainers. One wonders where
they all were lodged, as the castle could never have
been large one sees that from the foundations;
but I fancy habits were very simple in those days,
and the suites probably slept on the floor in one
of the halls with all their clothes on, the troop-
ers keeping on their jack-boots so long that they
had to be cut off sometimes the feet and legs so
swollen.
The drive from the club to the plage is charm-
ing. Sometimes through pretty narrow roads
[331]
CHATEAU LIFE IN FRANCE
with high banks on each side, with hedges on top,
quite like parts of Devonshire, and nice, little, low,
whitewashed cottages with green shutters and red
doors, much more like England than France.
We stopped at a cottage called the Dickens House,
where Charles Dickens lived for some time. It is
only one story high white with green shutters-
stands at the end of an old-fashioned garden filled
with all sorts of ordinary garden-flowers roses,
hollyhocks, larkspurs, pinks, all growing most
luxuriantly and making patches of colour in the
green surroundings. We saw Dickens' study, his
table still in the window (where he always wrote) ,
looking over the garden to an endless stretch of
green fields.
The plage is very new. There is a nice clean
hotel, with broad piazzas and balconies directly on
the sea and a few chalets are already built, but
there is an absolute dearth of trees and shade.
There was quite a strong sea-breeze the day we
were there, and the fine white sand was blown high
into the air in circles, getting into our eyes and hair.
There is a splendid beach miles of sand not a
rock or cliff absolutely level. The domain of
Hardelot belongs to a company of which Mr. John
Whitley was the president. He had concessions
for a tramway from Boulogne to Hardelot which
will certainly bring people to the plage and club.
[332]
BOULOGNE-SUR-MER
Now there is only an auto-bus, which goes very
slowly and is constantly out of order; once the club
is organized, I think it cannot fail to be a charm-
ing resort. There is plenty of game in the forest
(they have a good piece of it), perfect golf and
tennis grounds as much deep-sea fishing as one
wants. We went often to tea at the chateau. F.
played golf, and we walked about and sat under
the trees, and the children were quite happy play-
ing on the lawns where they were as safe as in
their nurseries.
[333]
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