Holidays in Eastern France by Matilda Betham-Edwards (best free ebook reader TXT) 📖

Last Day,


"Sans peur d'etre ecrase."


Among minor accomplishments of the Troyen of to-day, it may be mentioned that nowhere throughout all France--land par excellence of good washing and clear-starching--is linen got up to such perfection as at Troyes. The Blanchisserie Troyenne is unhappily an art unknown in England. It is curious that, much as cleanliness is thought of among ourselves, we are content to wear linen washed and ironed so execrably as we do. Clean linen in England means one thing, in France another; and no French maid or waiter would put on the half-washed, half-ironed linen we aristocratic insulars wear so complacently. Here indeed is a field for female enterprize!

From Troyes to Belfort is a journey best made by night-mail express, as there is little to see on the way; nor need Belfort--famous for its heroic defence under Danfert, and its rescue from Prussian grasp by the no less heroic pleadings of Thiers--detain the traveller. It is pleasant to find here, as at Troyes, a Rue Thiers, and to see Thiers' portrait in every window. If there is one memory universally adored and respected throughout France, it is that of the "petit bourgeois." No one who gets a glimpse of Belfort with its double ramparts and commanding position, will wonder at Thiers' pertinacity on the one hand, and Bismarck's reluctance on the other. Fortunately the "petit bourgeois" gained his point, and the preservation of Belfort to France was the one drop of comfort in that sea of misery.


CHAPTER IV.


AMONG FRENCH PROTESTANTS AT MONTBELIARD

Half-an-hour's railway journey brings me to the quaint little town of Montbeliard in the Department of Le Doubs, whose friends' friends give me hearty welcome, and I feel in an hour as much at home as if I had known it all my life. My friends had procured me a little lodging, rather, I should say, a magnificent appartement, consisting of spacious sitting and bedroom, for which I pay one franc a-day. It must not be supposed that Montbeliard is wanting in elegancies, or that the march of refinement is not found here. The fact is, the character of the people is essentially amiable, accommodating, and disinterested, and it never enters into their heads to ask more for their wares, simply because they could get it, or to make capital out of strangers. A franc a day is what is paid in these parts by lodgers, chiefly officers, and no more would be asked of the wealthiest or unwariest. You find the same spirit animating all classes, tradesmen, hotel-keepers, and others, and doubtless this is to be traced to several causes. In the first place, Montbeliard is one of the most enlightened, best educated, and most Protestant departements of all France. Le Doubs, part of the ancient Franche-Comte, is so Protestant, indeed, that in some towns and villages the Catholics are considerably in the minority, as is even the case still at Montbeliard.

So late as the French Revolution, the Comte of this name belonged to Wuertemberg, having passed over to that house by marriage in the fourteenth century. In 1792, however, it became amalgamated with the French Kingdom, and fortunately escaped annexation in the last Franco-German War. Protestantism early took root here, the Anabaptist Doctrine especially, and in the present day Montbeliard numbers several Protestant and only one Catholic church; the former belonging severally to the Reformed Church, the Lutheran, Anabaptists, also two or three so-called Oratoires, or Chapels of Ease, built and supported by private individuals. We find here the tables strangely turned, and in France the unique spectacle of four Protestant pastors to one Catholic priest! At one time the Protestant body numbered two-thirds of the entire population, now the proportion is somewhat less. This still strong Protestant leaven, and the long infiltration of German manners and customs has doubtless greatly modified the character of the inhabitants, who, whether belonging to the one denomination or the other, live side by side harmoniously.

We find a toleration here absolutely unknown in most parts of France, and a generally diffused enlightenment equally wanting where Catholicism dominates. Brittany and Franche-Comte (including the Departments of Le Doubs, Haute Saone, and Jura), offer a striking contrast; in the first we find the priest absolute, and consequently superstition, ignorance, dirt, and prejudice the prevailing order of the day; in the last we have a Protestant spirit of inquiry and rationalistic progress, consequently instruction making vast strides on every side, freedom from bigotry, and freedom alike from degrading spiritual bondage and fanaticism.

In the highly instructive map published by the French Minister of Instruction, Franche-Comte is marked white and Brittany black, thus denoting the antipodes of intellectual enlightenment and darkness to be found in the two countries. Here, indeed, we find ourselves in a wholly different world, so utterly has a spirit of inquiry revolutionized Eastern France, so long has her Western province been held in the grip of the priest. Furthermore, we have evidence of the zeal animating all classes with respect to education on every side, whilst it is quite delightful to converse with a Montbeliardais, no matter to which sect he belongs, so unprejudiced, instructed, and liberal-minded are these citizens of a town neither particularly important, flourishing, nor fortunate. For nine months Montbeliard had to support the presence of the enemy, and though the Prussian soldiery behaved very well here, the amiable, lively little town was almost ruined.

It is no less patriotic than enlightened; republican ideas being as firmly implanted here as any where in France. You see portraits of M. Thiers and Gambetta everywhere, and only good Republican journals on the booksellers' stalls. It would be interesting to know how many copies of the half-penny issue of La Republique Francaise are sold here daily; and whereas in certain parts of France the women read nothing except the Semaine Religieuse and the Petit Journal, here they read the high-class newspapers, reviews, and are conversant with what is going on in the political and literary world at home and abroad. Indeed, the contrast is amazing between female education, so called, in ultra-Catholic and ultra-Protestant France. In Brittany, where the young ladies are educated by the nuns, you never see or hear of a book. The very name of literature is a dead letter, and the upper classes are no better instructed than the lower. In Franche-Comte, girls of all ranks are well educated, young ladies of fortune going in for their brevet, or certificate, as well as those who have their bread to win. They are often familiar with the German and English languages, and above all are thoroughly conversant with their own literature, as well as book-keeping, arithmetic, French history, elementary science, &c.

This little town of eight thousand inhabitants possesses an intellectual atmosphere in which it is possible to breathe. Wherever you go you find books in plenty and of the best kind, and this difference is especially noteworthy among women. I find the young ladies of Montbeliard as familiar with the works of Currer Bell and Mrs. Gaskell as among ourselves. Miss Yonge is also a favourite, and unlike a large class of novel-readers in England, standard works are not neglected by them for fiction. No matter at what time you enter the public library here, you are sure to find ladies of all ages coming to change their books, the contents of this library, be it remembered, consisting chiefly of French classics. The mingled homeliness, diffusion of intelligence and aesthetic culture seen here, remind me of certain little German cities and towns. People living on very modest means find money for books, whereas in certain parts of France no such expenditure is ever thought of, whilst dress and outward show are much less considered.

Naturally, this diffusion of culture raises the tone of conversation and society generally, and its influence is seen in various ways. Music is cultivated assiduously, not only by women of the better ranks, but by both sexes of all, especially among the work-people. The Musical Society of Montbeliard consists of a very respectable orchestra indeed, and is composed of amateurs, mostly young men, recruited from the working as well as middle classes. This Society gives open-air concerts on Sunday afternoons, and one evening in the week, to the great delectation of the multitude, who upon these occasions turn out of doors en masse to enjoy the music and the company of their neighbours. The "Societe d'Emulation" is another instance of the stimulus given to scientific, literary, and artistic pursuits by a Protestant spirit of inquiry. This Society was founded in 1852 by a few savants, in order to develope the public taste for science, art, and letters.

It now numbers two hundred and forty-three members, and has been instrumental in founding a museum containing upwards of eighty thousand archaeological specimens, besides botanical, and geological, and other collections. It is particularly rich in this first respect, few provincial museums having such complete illustrations of the pre-historic and also Gallo-Roman periods. The flint, bronze, and iron epochs are here largely represented, some of the large leaf-shaped flint instruments being particularly beautiful specimens. The excavations at Mandeure--a short drive from Montbeliard--the Epomanduoduum of the Romans--have afforded a precious collection of interesting objects, pottery, small bronze groups of figures, ornaments, terra-cottas, &c.; at Mandeure are to be seen the ruins of the ancient city, amphitheatre, baths, tombs, the vestiges of a temple, and other remains; but excavations are still going on under the direction of the learned President of the "Societe d'Emulation," M. Fabre, and further treasure-trove is looked for.

This charming little museum, so tastefully arranged in the old Halles, by M. Fabre, is open on Sunday afternoon on payment of two sous, but in order to promote a love of science among the young, schools are admitted gratuitously, and within the last ten weeks of summer thirty-nine teachers, and seven hundred and forty-eight pupils of both sexes, had availed themselves of the privilege. During the Prussian occupation in 1870-71, a sum of 323,950 francs was exacted from the town, and the museum and library, after being valued at a considerable sum, were seized as pledges of payment. Seals were set on the collections, and Prussian soldiery guarded the treasures which had been collected with so much zeal and sacrifice. The sum was not paid, but the library and museum were not forfeited, to the satisfaction of all.

There is a charming little Theatre also at the back of the Hotel-de-Ville, where occasional representations by good Parisian companies are given. The decorations are by the hand of one of the artists who decorated the Grand Opera in Paris. He happened to be at Montbeliard, and, taking a kindly interest in the town, offered to do it for a nominal price. Years passed and the promise was forgotten, but, on being reminded of it, the artist, with true French chivalry, redeemed his word, and the decorations of the Montbeliard Theatre are really a magnificent monument of artistic liberality. Montbeliard is as sociable as it is advanced, and one introductory letter from a native of the friendly little town, long since settled in Paris, opened all hearts to me. Everyone is helpful, agreeable, and charming. My evenings are always spent at one pleasant house or another, where music, tea, and conversation lend wings to the cheerful hours. The custom of keeping the veillee, familiar to readers of the gifted Franc-Comtois writer, Charles Nodier, is common here among all classes, people quitting their homes after their early supper--for, according to German habit, we dine at noon and sup at seven here--to enjoy the society of their neighbours.

Delightful recollections did I carry away of many a veillee, and of one in particular, where a dozen friends and their English guest assembled in the summer-house of a suburban garden, there