Part 6 (1/2)
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 gla.s.s of champagne. He knew everybody, having 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 received 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 following. They stopped at the foot of the hill, giving us a ringing cheer as we left.
I never but once saw the whole neighbourhood a.s.sembled--when the only son of the Baron de L. married. The Baron and his wife were very good specimens of provincial _n.o.blesse_. 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 pleasant, jovial manner, quite the type of the country 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 pa.s.sed 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 gla.s.s ”cloches” making huge white spots. The vegetables always looked very tempting as we pa.s.sed 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 newcomer.
It was in the first year of my marriage, my first appearance in the country, and I was rather 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 diamonds--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 fireflies. 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 handsome--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 sister 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, Mlle.
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 MacMahon 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 that the ordinary pa.s.ser-by would have seen nothing. There were also the owners of Colinance--rather an ugly square house standing low, surrounded 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 animated enough--it was princ.i.p.ally 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 consults him, from the big landowner when he has 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 constantly 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 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.
Quant.i.ties of rooms, a long gallery with small rooms on one side, the ”garconniere” 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 navely perhaps--that it was the 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 neighbouring chateaux, and even from Paris, when the distance 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 arriving; 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 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 soldiers 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 regiment, cha.s.seurs, 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 arrangements and give the necessary orders. We had 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.