After a late dinner, at which their appetites were pretty effectually taken away by seeing dishes of snails passed round and eaten like nuts, with large pins to pick out the squirming meat; a night's rest somewhat disturbed by the incessant clatter of sabots in the market-place, and a breakfast rendered merry by being served by a garçon whom Dickens would have immortalised, our travellers went on to Caulnes-Dinan.
Here began their adventures, properly speaking. They were obliged to drive fourteen miles[Pg 25] to Dinan in a ram-shackle carriage drawn by three fierce little horses, with their tails done up in braided chignons, and driven by a humpback. This elegant equipage was likewise occupied by a sleepy old priest, who smoked his pipe without stopping the whole way; also by a large, loquacious, beery man, who talked incessantly, informing the company that he was a friend of Victor Hugo, a child of nature aged sixty, and obliged to drink much ale because it went to his head and gave him commercial ideas.
If it had given him no others it would have done well; but, after each draught, and he took many, this child of nature became so friendly that even the free and easy Americans were abashed. Matilda quailed before the languishing glances he gave her, and tied her head up like a bundle in a thick veil. The[Pg 26] scandalised Lavinia, informing him that she did not understand French, assumed the demeanour of a griffin, and glared stonily into space, when she was not dislocating her neck trying to see if the top-heavy luggage had not tumbled off behind.
Poor Amanda was thus left a prey to the beery one; for, having at first courteously responded to his paternal remarks and expressed an interest in the state of France, she could not drop the conversation all at once, even when the friend of Victor Hugo became so disagreeable that it is to be hoped the poet has not many such. He recited poems, he sung songs, he made tender confidences, and finished by pressing the hand of Mademoiselle to his lips. On being told that such demonstrations were not permitted to strangers in America, he beat his breast and cried out,[Pg 27] 'My God, so beautiful and so cold! You do not comprehend that I am but a child. Pardon, and smile again I conjure you.'
But Mademoiselle would not smile; and, folding her hands in her cloak, appeared to slumber. Whereat the gray-headed infant groaned pathetically, cast his eyes heavenward, and drank more ale, muttering to himself, and shaking his head as if his emotions could not be entirely suppressed.
These proceedings caused Lavinia to keep her eye on him, being prepared for any outbreak, from a bullet all round to proposals to both her charges at once.
With this smouldering bomb-shell inside, and the firm conviction that one if not all the trunks were lying in the dust some miles behind, it may be inferred that duenna Livy did not enjoy that break-neck drive, lurching[Pg 28] and bumping up hill and down, with nothing between them and destruction apparently but the little humpback, who drove recklessly.
In this style they rattled up to the Porte de Brest, feeling that they had reached Dinan 'only by the grace of God,' as the beery man expressed it, when he bowed and vanished, still oppressed with the gloomy discovery that American women did not appreciate him.
While Amanda made inquiries at an office, and Matilda had raptures over the massive archway crowned with yellow flowers, Lavinia was edified by a new example of woman's right to labour.
Close by was a clean, rosy old woman, whose unusual occupation attracted our spinster's attention. Whisking off the wheels of a diligence, the old lady greased them one by one, and put them on again with the skill and speed[Pg 29] of a regular blacksmith, and then began to pile many parcels into a char apparently waiting for them.
She was a brisk, cheery old soul, with the colour of a winter-apple in her face, plenty of fire in her quick black eyes, and a mouthful of fine teeth, though she must have been sixty. She was dressed in the costume of the place: a linen cap with several sharp gables to it, a gay kerchief over her shoulders, a blue woollen gown short enough to display a pair of sturdy feet and legs in neat shoes with bunches of ribbons on the instep and black hose. A gray apron, with pockets and a bib, finished her off; making a very sensible as well as picturesque costume.
She was still hard at it when a big boy appeared, and began to heave the trunks into another char; but gave out at the second,[Pg 30] which was large. Instantly the brisk old woman put him aside, hoisted in the big boxes without help, and, catching up the shafts of the heavily laden cart, trotted away with it at a pace which caused the Americans (who prided themselves on their muscle) to stare after her in blank amazement.
When next seen she was toiling up a steep street, still ahead of the lazy boy, who slowly followed with the lighter load. It did not suit Lavinia's ideas of the fitness of things to have an old woman trundle three heavy trunks while she herself carried nothing but a parasol, and she would certainly have lent a hand if the vigorous creature had not gone at such a pace that it was impossible to overtake her till she backed her cart up before a door in most scientific style, and with a bow, a smile, and a courteous wave of the hand,[Pg 31] informed them that 'here the ladies would behold the excellent Madame C.'
They did behold and also receive a most cordial welcome from the good lady, who not only embraced them with effusion, but turned her house upside down for their accommodation, merely because they came recommended to her hospitality by a former lodger who had won her kind old heart.
While she purred over them, the luggage was being bumped upstairs, the old woman shouldering trunk after trunk, and trudging up two steep flights in the most marvellous way. But best of all was her surprise and gratitude on receiving a larger fee than usual, for the ladies were much interested in this dear old Hercules in a cap of seven gables.
When she had blessed them all round, and trotted briskly away with her carts, Madame C.[Pg 32] informed the new-comers that the worthy soul was a widow with many children, whom she brought up excellently, supporting them by acting as porter at the hotel. Her strength was wonderful, and she was very proud of it—finding no work too hard, yet always neat, cheery, and active; asking no help, and literally earning her daily bread by the sweat of her brow. The ladies often saw her afterward, always trotting and tugging, smiling and content, as if some unseen hands kept well greased the wheels of her own diligence, which carried such a heavy load and never broke down.
Miss Lavinia being interested in Woman's Rights and Wrongs, was much impressed by the new revelations of the capabilities of her sex, and soon ceased to be surprised at any demonstration of feminine strength, skill, and[Pg 33] independence, for everywhere the women took the lead.
They not only kept house, reared children, and knit every imaginable garment the human frame can wear, but kept the shops and the markets, tilled the gardens, cleaned the streets, and bought and sold cattle, leaving the men free to enjoy the only pursuits they seemed inclined to follow—breaking horses, mending roads, and getting drunk.
The markets seemed entirely in the hands of the women, and lively scenes they presented to unaccustomed eyes, especially the pig-market, held every week, in the square before Madame C.'s house. At dawn the squealing began, and was kept up till sunset. The carts came in from all the neighbouring hamlets, with tubs full of infant pigs, over which the women watched with maternal care till they[Pg 34] were safely deposited among the rows of tubs that stood along the walk facing Anne of Bretaigne's grey old tower, and the pleasant promenade which was once the fosse about the city walls.
Here Madame would seat herself and knit briskly till a purchaser applied, when she would drop her work, dive among the pink innocents, and hold one up by its unhappy leg, undisturbed by its doleful cries, while she settled its price with a blue-gowned, white-capped neighbour as sharp-witted and shrill-tongued as herself. If the bargain was struck, they slapped their hands together in a peculiar way, and the new owner clapped her purchase into a meal-bag, slung it over her shoulder, and departed with her squirming, squealing treasure as calmly as a Boston lady with a satchel full of ribbons and gloves.
More mature pigs came to market on their[Pg 35] own legs, and very long, feeble legs they were, for a more unsightly beast than a Breton pig was never seen out of a toy Noah's ark. Tall, thin, high-backed, and sharp-nosed, these porcine victims tottered to their doom, with dismal wailings, and not a vestige of spirit till the trials and excitement of the day goaded them to rebellion, when their antics furnished fun for the public. Miss Livy observed that the women could manage the pigs when men failed entirely. The latter hustled, lugged, or lashed, unmercifully and unsuccessfully; the former, with that fine tact which helps them to lead nobler animals than pigs, would soothe, sympathise, coax, and gently beguile the poor beasts, or devise ways of mitigating their bewilderment and woe, which did honour to the sex, and triumphantly illustrated the power of moral suasion.
[Pg 36]
One amiable lady, who had purchased two small pigs and a coop full of fowls, attempted to carry them all on one donkey. But the piggies rebelled lustily in the bags, the ducks remonstrated against their unquiet neighbours, and the donkey indignantly refused to stir a step till the unseemly uproar was calmed. But the Bretonne was equal to the occasion; for, after a pause of meditation, she solved the problem by tying the bags round the necks of the pigs, so that they could enjoy the prospect. This appeased them at once, and produced a general lull; for when the pigs stopped squealing, the ducks stopped quacking, the donkey ceased his bray, and the party moved on in dignified silence, with the youthful pigs, one black, one white, serenely regarding life from their bags.
Another time, a woman leading a [Pg 37]newly-bought cow came through the square, where the noise alarmed the beast so much that she became unruly, and pranced in a most dangerous manner. Miss Livy hung out of the window, breathless with interest, and ready to fly with brandy and bandages at a minute's notice, for it seemed inevitable that the woman would be tossed up among the lindens before the cow was conquered. The few men who were lounging about stood with their hands in their pockets, watching the struggle without offering to help, till the cow scooped the lady up on her horns, ready for a toss. Livy shrieked, but Madame just held on, kicking so vigorously that the cow was glad to set her down, when, instead of fainting, she coolly informed the men, who, seeing her danger, had approached, that she 'could arrange her cow for herself, and did not want any help,' which she proved by tying a big[Pg 38] blue handkerchief over the animal's eyes, producing instant docility, and then she was led away by her flushed but triumphant mistress, who calmly settled her cap, and took a pinch of snuff to refresh herself, after a scuffle which would have annihilated most women.
When Madame C.'s wood was put in, the new-comers were interested in watching the job, for it was done in a truly Bretonesque manner. It arrived in several odd carts, each drawn by four great horses, with two men to each team; and as the carts were clumsy, the horses wild, and the men stupid, the square presented a lively spectacle. At one time there were three carts, twelve horses, and six men, all in a snarl, while a dozen women stood at their doors and gave advice. One was washing a lettuce, another dressing her baby, a third twirling her distaff, and a fourth with her little bowl of soup, which[Pg 39] she ate in public while gesticulating so frantically that her sabots clattered on the stones.
The horses had a free fight, and the men swore and shouted in vain, till the lady with the baby suddenly went to the rescue. Planting the naked cherub on the door-step, this energetic matron charged in among the rampant animals, and by some magic touch untangled the teams, quieted the most fractious, a big grey brute, prancing like a mad elephant; then returned to her baby, who was placidly eating dirt, and with a polite 'Voilà, messieurs!' she whipped little Jean into his shirt, while the men sat down to smoke.
It took two deliberate men nearly a week to split the gnarled logs, and one brisk woman carried them into the cellar and piled them neatly. The men stopped about once an hour to smoke, drink cider, or rest. The woman[Pg 40] worked steadily from morning till night, only pausing at noon for a bit of bread and the soup good Coste sent out to her. The men got two francs a day, the woman half a franc; and as nothing was taken out of it for wine or tobacco, her ten cents probably went further than their forty.
This same capable lady used to come to market with a baby on one arm, a basket of fruit on the other, leading a pig, driving a donkey, and surrounded by sheep, while her head bore a pannier of vegetables, and her hands spun busily with a distaff. How she ever got on with these trifling incumbrances was a mystery; but there she was, busy, placid, and smiling, in the midst of the crowd, and at night went home with her shopping well content.
The washerwomen were among the happiest[Pg 41] of these happy souls, and nowhere were seen prettier pictures than they made, clustered round the fountains or tanks by the way, scrubbing, slapping, singing, and gossiping, as they washed or spread their linen on the green hedges and daisied grass in the bright spring weather. One envied the cheery faces under the queer caps, the stout arms that scrubbed all day, and were not too tired to carry home some chubby Jean or little Marie when night came; and, most of all, the contented hearts in the broad bosoms under the white kerchiefs, for no complaint did one hear from these hard-working, happy women. The same brave spirit seems to possess them now as that which carried them heroically to their fate in the Revolution, when hundreds of mothers and children were shot at Nantes and died without a murmur.
But of all the friends the strangers made[Pg 42] among them they liked old Mère Oudon best—a shrivelled leaf of a woman, who at ninety-two still supported her old husband of ninety-eight. He was nearly helpless, and lay in bed most of the time, smoking, while she peeled willows at a sou a day, trudged up and down with herbs, cresses, or any little thing she could find to sell. Very proud was she of her 'master,' his great age, his senses still quite perfect, and most of all his strength, for now and then the old tyrant left his bed to beat her, which token of conjugal regard she seemed to enjoy as a relic of early days, and a proof that he would long be spared to her.
She kept him exquisitely neat, and if anyone gave her a plate of food, a little snuff, or any small comfort for her patient old age, she took it straight to the 'master,' and found a double happiness in giving and seeing him enjoy it.
[Pg 43]
She had but one eye, her amiable husband having put out the other once on a time as she was leading him home tipsy from market. The kind soul bore no malice, and always made light of it when forced to tell how the affliction befell her.
'My Yvon was so gay in his young days, truly, yes, a fine man, and now most beautiful to see in his clean bed, with the new pipe that Mademoiselle sent him. Come, then, and behold him, my superb master, who at ninety-eight has still this strength so wonderful.'
The ladies never cared to see him more than once, but often met the truly beautiful old wife as she toiled to and fro, finding her faithful love more wonderful than his strength, and feeling sure that when she lies at last on her 'clean bed,' some good angel will repay these ninety-two hard years with the youth[Pg 44] and beauty, happiness and rest, which nothing can destroy.
Not only did the women manage the affairs of this world, but had more influence than men with the good powers of heaven. A long drought parched France that year, and even fertile Brittany suffered. More than once processions of women, led by priests, poured through the gates to go to the Croix du Saint Esprit and pray for rain.
'Why don't the men go also?' Miss Livy asked.
'Ah! they pray to the Virgin, and she listens best to women,' was the answer.
She certainly seemed to do so, for gracious showers soon fell, and the little gardens bloomed freshly where the mothers' hard hands had planted cabbages, onions, and potatoes to feed the children through the long winter.
[Pg 45]
Nor were these the only tasks the women did. The good ladies had a hospital, and a neater, cheerier place was never seen; few invalids, but many old people sitting in the sunny gardens, or at work in the clean rooms. La Garaye is in ruins now, but the memory of its gentle lady still lives, and is preserved in this benevolent institution for the sick, the old, and poor.
A school for girls was kept by the good nuns, and the streets at certain hours were full of little damsels, with round caps on their braided hair, queer long gowns of blue, white aprons and handkerchiefs, who went clattering by in their wooden shoes, bobbing little curtsies to their friends, and readily answering any questions inquisitive strangers asked them. They learned to read, write, sew, and say the catechism. Also to sing; for, often as the[Pg 46] ladies passed the little chapel of Our Lady, a chorus of sweet young voices came to us, making the flowery garden behind the church of St. Sauveur a favourite resting-place.
In endeavouring to account for the freedom of the women here, it was decided that it was owing to Anne of Brittany, the 'gentle and generous Duchesse,' to whom her husband Louis XII. allowed the uncontrolled government of the duchy. Relics of the 'fière Bretonne,' as Louis called her, are still treasured everywhere, and it was pleasant to know not only that she was an accomplished woman, writing tender letters in Latin verse to her husband, but also a wise and just Princess to her people, 'showing herself by spirit and independence to be the most worthy of all her race to wear the ducal crown.' So three[Pg 47] cheers for good Duchesse Anne, and long life to the hardy, happy women of Brittany!
While Miss Lavinia was making these observations and moralizing upon them, the younger ladies were enjoying discoveries and experiences more to their tastes.
They had not been in the house half a day before Madame C. informed them that 'Mademoiselle, the so charming miss whom they beheld at dinner, was to be married very soon; and they should have the rapture of witnessing a wedding the most beautiful.'
They welcomed the prospect with pleasure, for Dinan is not a whirl of gaiety at the best of times: and that spring the drought, rumours of war, and fears of small-pox, cast a shadow upon the sunny little town. So they surveyed Mademoiselle Pelagie with interest, and longed[Pg 48] to behold the happy man who was to be blessed with the hand of this little, yellow-faced girl, with red eyes, dirty hands, and a frizzled crop, so like a wig they never could make up their minds that it was not.
Madame, the mamma, a buxom, comely widow, who breakfasted in black moire, with a diadem of glossy braids on her sleek head, and many jet ornaments rattling and glistening about her person, informed them, with voluble affability, of the whole affair.
'My brother, M. le Président, had arranged the marriage. Pelagie was twenty, and beautiful, as you behold. It was time to establish her. Mon Dieu! yes; though my heart is lacerated to lose my angel, I consent. I conduct her to a ball, that she may be seen by the young man whose parents desire that he should espouse my infant. He beholds her. He says:[Pg 49] "Great heavens, I adore her! My father, I consent." He is presented to me; we converse. She regards him with the angelic modesty of a young girl, but speaks not. I approve, the parents meet, it is arranged, and Jules is betrothed to my Pelagie. They have not met since; but next week he comes for the marriage, and he will be permitted to address her in my presence. Ah, yes! your customs are not as ours, and to us seem of a deplorable freedom. Pardon that I say it.'
On inquiring how Pelagie regarded her future lord, they found that she thought very little about him, but was absorbed in her trousseau, which she proudly displayed. To those accustomed to see and hear of American outfits, with their lavish profusion and extravagant elegance, poor little Pelagie's modest stores were not at all imposing. Half a dozen pretty[Pg 50] dresses from Paris; several amazing hats, all rosebuds, lace, and blue ribbon; a good deal of embroidery; and a few prophetic caps,—completed the outfit.
One treasure, however, she was never tired of displaying,—a gift from Jules,—a camels'-hair shawl, in a black walnut case, on which was carved the Clomadoc arms. A set of pearls were also from the bridegroom; but the shawl was her pride, for married women alone could wear such, and she seemed to think this right of more importance than any the wedding-ring could confer upon her.
To the young ladies, both of whom had known many of the romantic experiences which befall comely American girls, the idea of marrying a man whom they had only seen twice seemed horrible; and to have but one week of courtship, and that in Mamma's [Pg 51]presence, was simply an insult and a wrong which they would not bear to think of.
But Pelagie seemed quite content, and brooded over her finery like a true Frenchwoman, showing very little interest in her Jules, and only anxious for the time to come when she could wear her shawl and be addressed as Madame.
While waiting for the grand event, the girls amused themselves with Gaston, the brother of the bride-elect. He was a languid, good-looking youth of three-and-twenty, who assumed blasé airs and attitudinized for their benefit. Sometimes he was lost in fits of Byronic gloom, when he frowned over his coffee, sighed gustily, and clutched his brow, regardless of the curls, usually in ambrosial order. The damsels, instead of being impressed by this display of inward agony, only laughed at him, and soon[Pg 52] rallied him out of his heroics. Then he would try another plan, and become all devotion, presenting green tulips, ancient coins, early fruit, or sketches of his own, so very small that the design was quite obscure. If these delicate attentions failed to touch the stony hearts of the blonde Americans, he would air his entire wardrobe, appearing before them one day in full Breton costume of white cloth, embroidered in gay silks, buckled shoes, and hat adorned with streaming ribbons and flowers. Quite Arcadian was Gaston in this attire; and very effective on the croquet ground, where sundry English families disported themselves on certain afternoons. Another time he would get himself up like a Parisian dandy bound for a ride in the Bois de Boulogne; and, mounting with much difficulty a rampant horse, he would caracole about the Place St. Louis, to the great delight of the natives.
[Pg 53]
But this proved a failure; for one of the fair but cruel strangers donned hat and habit, and entirely eclipsed his glories by galloping about the country like an Amazon. The only time Gaston played escort she was nearly the death of him, for he seldom did more than amble a mile or two, and a hard trot of some six or eight miles reduced our Adonis to such a state of exhaustion that he fell into his mother's arms on dismounting, and was borne away to bed with much lamentation.
After that he contented himself with coming to show himself in full dress whenever he went to a party; and, as that was nearly every other evening, they soon got accustomed to hearing a tap at their door, and beholding the comely youth in all the bravery of glossy broadcloth, a lavish shirt-bosom, miraculous tie, primrose gloves, varnished shoes, and curls and moustache anointed and perfumed in the most [Pg 54]exquisite style. He would bow and say 'Bon soir,' then stand to be admired, with the artless satisfaction of a child; after which he would smile complacently, wave his crush hat, and depart with a flourish.
Dear, dandified, vain Gaston! His great desire was to go to Paris, and when the war came he had his wish; but found sterner work to do than to dress and dance and languish at the feet of ladies. I hope it made a man of him, and fancy it did; for the French fight well and suffer bravely for the country they love in their melodramatic fashion.
As the day approached for the advent of the bridegroom, great excitement prevailed in the quiet household. Madame C. and her handmaid, dear old Marie, cackled and bustled like a pair of important hens. Madame F., the widow, lived at the milliner's, so to speak, and[Pg 55] had several dress rehearsals for her own satisfaction. Gaston mounted guard over his sister, lest some enamoured man should rend her from them ere her Jules could secure the prize. And Pelagie placidly ate and slept, kept her hair in crimping-pins from morning till night, wore out her old clothes, and whiled away the time munching bonbons and displaying her shawl.
'Mercy on us! I should feel like a lamb being fattened for the sacrifice if I were in her place,' cried one of the freeborn American citizenesses, with an air of unmitigated scorn for French ways of conducting this interesting ceremony.
'I should feel like a galley-slave,' said the other. 'For she can't go anywhere without Gaston or Mamma at her elbow. Only yesterday she went into a shop alone, while Gaston waited at the door. And when she told it at[Pg 56] home as a great exploit all the ladies shrieked with horror at the idea, and Mamma said, wringing her hands: "Mon Dieu! but they will think thou art a married woman, for it is inconceivable that any girl should do so bold a thing." And Pelagie wept, and implored them not to tell Jules, lest he should discard her.'
Here the Americans all groaned over the pathetic absurdity of the whole affair, and wondered with unrighteous glee what the decorous ladies below would say to some of their pranks at home. But, fearing that M. le Président might feel it his duty to eject them from the town as dangerous persons, they shrouded their past sins in the most discreet silence, and assumed their primmest demeanour in public.
'He has come! Look quick, girls!' cried Lavinia, as a carriage stopped at the door, and a rushing sound, as of many agitated skirts, was[Pg 57] heard in the hall. Three heads peeped from the window of the blue parlour, and three pairs of curious eyes were rewarded by a sight of the bridegroom, as he alighted.
Such a little man! Such a fierce moustache! Such a dignified strut! And such an imposing uniform as he wore! For Jules Gustave Adolphe Marie Clomadoc was a colonel in some regiment stationed at Boulogne. Out he skipped; in he marched; and, peeping over the banisters, they saw him salute Madame F. with a stately kiss on the hand, then escort her up to her salon, bowing loftily, and twisting his tawny moustache with an air that gave him the effect of being six feet in height, and broad in proportion.
How he greeted his fiancée they knew not, but the murmur of voices came from the room in steady flow for hours, and Gaston flew in and out with an air of immense importance.
[Pg 58]
At dinner the strangers were proudly presented to M. le Colonel, and received affable bows from the little man, who flattered himself that he could talk English, and insisted on speaking an unknown tongue, evidently wondering at their stupidity in not understanding their own language.
He escort............