Part 1 (1/2)
Jacques Bonneval.
by Anne Manning.
CHAPTER I.
THE FAIR OF BEAUCAIRE.
There was magic, to my young ears, in the very name of the Fair of Beaucaire. Beaucaire is only ten miles from Nismes, therefore no wonder I heard plenty about it. It is true, that in my time, the world-famous fair did not exercise so vast an influence on commercial affairs In general, as in the old days, when it was the great market of France; and not only France, but of all civilized countries. With what enjoyment would I hear my grandfather relate how great caravans of wealthy merchants would a.s.semble for mutual protection, because of the audacious outlaws, often headed by some powerful baron, who lay in wait for them to despoil them of their merchandise, and often to carry them off prisoners and extort heavy ransom. My grandfather would tell hew long files of mules, laden with rich silks, cloths, serges, camlets, and furs, from Montpelier, from Narbonne, from Toulouse, from Carca.s.sonne, and other places, would wend towards Beaucaire, as the day called the Feast of St. Magdalene approached, on which the fair was opened. The roads were then thronged with travelers; the city was choke-full of strangers; not a bed to be had, unless long preengaged, for love or money. The shops exhibited the utmost profusion of rich goods; hospitality was exercised without grudging; old friends met from year to year; matches between their children were frequently concerted; bargains were struck, and commercial bills were commonly made payable at the Fair of Beaucaire. The crowd was immense while it lasted; a hundred thousand strangers being generally present.
Thus, you can easily conceive what charms such a lively scene had for the young; while to the old it was the crown of their industry during the year. Those at a distance, finding communications difficult and journeys expensive, were glad to make an annual pilgrimage serve their turn, when they were certain of meeting their fellow-traders, and of having under their notice goods from all parts of the world.
It was with great glee, therefore, that I, a youth of nineteen, started with my family for the Fair of Beaucaire on the 21st of July, 1685.
Accommodation was promised us by my uncle Nicolas, and we went the day before the festival in order to see it from the beginning. I drove a large and commodious char-a-banc, in which were my father and mother, my younger brothers and sisters, Monsieur Bourdinave, my father's partner, his two fair daughters, Madeleine and Gabrielle, and their old servant Alice, who was also their kinswoman in a distant degree.
I was held to be a smart youth in those days, by my family and friends, and certainly I had made myself as fine as I could, in the hope of pleasing Madeleine, who, to my mind, was the most charming girl in the world. Nor was she behindhand in the way of ornament, for she and her sister were dressed in their best, and looked as fresh as daisies. In fact, we were, one and all, in holiday attire; even the horse being tricked out with ribbons, ta.s.sels, fringes, and flowers, till he was quite a sight.
My father opened the day with family wors.h.i.+p, which always seemed to put us in tune for the morning, and spread a balmy influence over us. I well remember the portion of Scripture he read was the seventeenth chapter of St. John's Gospel, which, I need not remind you, contains this verse--”I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil.” My father dwelt on this in his prayer, and said, ”Lord, I know that these dear young people cannot pa.s.s through life without hearing and seeing much of evil: but, oh, keep them unspotted by it! Let an atmosphere of sanct.i.ty and safety surround them even in the midst of the fires, that they receive no hurt. In their allowed pleasures and pastimes, let them wear that spiritual hauberk which is invulnerable to the darts of the wicked; let them steadfastly set their faces against whatever thy word disallows; and, should fiery trial and temptation beset them, enable them, having done all, to stand.”
I am confident that these were as nearly as possible the very words of my father; for they made an impression on me that I could hardly account for: and as he had recently been explaining to the children the nature of a hauberk, as a coat of defensive armor, and remarking on its pliancy and being often worn out of sight, the metaphor fixed itself in my memory.
We had a substantial breakfast of soup and bread before we started; and then drove in state to M. Bourdinave's door, where I sprang out to help the smiling girls into the char-a-banc. I would gladly have had Madeleine next me, but, as ill-luck would have it, M. Bourdinave placed himself at my side, and my father just behind; so that I was completely shut out from her, to my great chagrin. However, if I could not see her, unless by looking round, I knew she could see me; so I carried myself my best, and flourished my whip in fine style.
And thus we went to the Fair of Beaucaire. As we pa.s.sed Les Arenes, that famous Roman amphitheatre in the centre of our city, I heard my father and his old friend allude to its former uses, without paying much heed to them. I believe they reminded one another that not only wild beasts but Christians had formerly been put to death there, for the recreation of those who were wild beasts themselves; and my father said how he hated the Sunday bull-fights that took place there still, and never would let me go near them; on which I put in soberly, ”I never want to, father.”
”Thou art a steady lad, I'll warrant thee,” said M. Bourdinave, approvingly. ”Hold fast the form of sound words which hath been given thee in faith and love which is in Christ Jesus.”
”Ay, ay, sir,” said I, whipping old Rene smartly. And in another minute we were thumping and b.u.mping over great paving-stones, too noisily for conversation to be carried on, and getting into a melee of carts, wagons, and hors.e.m.e.n, all bound for Beaucaire. The women were now in great delight, looking from side to side, commenting on the dress of one, the equipage of another, nodding to acquaintance, and crying ”O, look!” to each other, when they saw anything beyond common. I had enough to do, I a.s.sure you, to steer a straight course; and M. Bourdinave observing it, remarked that he hoped I should be equally vigilant in steering a straight course through life, which made me cry ”Ay, ay, sir,” and set me thinking.
When the road became a little quieter, I heard him and my father discussing the price of coc.o.o.ns, the superiority of good coc.o.o.ns to cocalons, dupions, and soufflons; which last, I need not tell you, are very imperfect coc.o.o.ns; dupions have two threads, and confuse one with another; and pointed coc.o.o.ns are apt to break in the winding. But all these, as you know, are turned to account by the silk-spinner, and worked up into stockings, sewing-silk, and handkerchiefs. But the good coc.o.o.ns that yield a strong, thick, compact filament, are appropriated by the silk-throwsters.
But this trade-talk was interrupted by cries of amused delight from the women, and on looking about to see what tickled their fancies, they pointed out to us a most extraordinary figure, standing bolt upright in a cart. He was tall and meagre, and wore a long black robe and tall pointed cap, both of which appeared spangled with silver; instead of which, they were studded with steel b.u.t.tons, needles, and pins, of which he was an itinerant vendor. I believe the women would have purchased largely of him, had my father let me stop.
Next we came up with a little house upon wheels, drawn by a sorry horse, and on the wooden wall of the said house was depicted, many sizes larger than life, a great human tooth, with bleeding fangs. Beneath was an inscription that the owner of the cart was a traveling dentist, who drew teeth without the least pain.
Alice, the maid, had instantly a great desire to let him draw a troublesome tooth of hers which, she took pains to a.s.sure us, was not impaired by natural decay, but only accidentally broken in cracking a cherry-stone. ”The edge is so rough,” said she, ”that it hurts my tongue; and since this honest gentleman can extract it painlessly, I have a great mind to try his hand.”
”Plenty of time for that when we get to Beaucaire,” said M. Bourdinave.
”Sure, you would not have a tooth drawn in the middle of the high road?”
”Truly, I should not mind it, inside that nice little wooden house,”
said she.
But no, she was not allowed to do so; and, to console her, Madeleine uncovered a little basket she carried on her arm, and discovered cherries as red as her own lips, nestling in dark green leaves. ”Here,”
said she, cheerfully, ”are some stones to take your revenge on.”
”Ah, what beauties,” cried Alice, taking a few; and the basket being handed round, we were soon all eating cherries; and Gabrielle asked me if I did not wish she had the gift of St. Marguerite.
”I do not know what gift you mean,” said I, turning half round, and looking full at her.
”Once on a time,” said the lively girl, ”the foolish story goes, that two saints, who were brother and sister, lived in separate monasteries; but the brother was frequently visited by his sister, on the pretence of seeking spiritual advice. Their names were St. Honorat and St.