CORRESPONDENCE.
BOURBONNE-LES-BAINS.
[FROM A CORRESPONDENT.]
Bourbonne-le-s-Bains, Haute Marne, 16th August. Wz were awakened yesterday morning at 5 a.m. by a most merry and musical peal from the bells of the ancient church in honour of the great fête of France and the special fete of Bourbonne, the Assumption of Our Lady, and we found the little town full of life and activity. Nothing very splendid or important was to take place until the afternoon, when /a musique was to perform in the gardens, conducted by a gentleman who combines so many official posts that I cannot remember them all, and who turns up in a fresh capacity every day. Then the promenade Orfeuil was to be thronged with admiring spectators of the wonders of the Arts, as represented by painting and the drama. Hints of the possible arrival of illustrious strangers were rife, and we knew for a fact that there was already a brown bear in Bourbonne. Indeed he had paid us a visit, coming into the ever-accessible ballot Madame G—'s house at the end of a rusty chain attached to a collar much too big for him, which pushed his ears up and made him unneces- sarily wretched,—a collar which must have been intended for a grizzly. He was a melancholy, misanthropic bear ; he leaned dis- consolately against the door-post, he did not look fierce, or strong, or anything but bored to extinction ; we thought he would not mind being rid of his ragged brown coat, and melted down into balm of Columbia. I never saw anyone so dirty as his leader; he was browner than the bear and as despondent; he said they were both Lithuanians, but I did not believe him. "There's an elephant and a camel, yes, a camel with two humps," our bonne assured us, and we smiled assent and anticipation, not wishing to undeceive her ; but as we had happened, while taking one of those walks which puzzled the natives and the visitors alike, to see the caravan of beasts passing towards the town, and had observed its dimensions, we did not set our hearts on the elephant and the camel with two humps. The pelican of the wilderness, with a neat dinner of pebbles laid out for him, the cassowary of the Nile (fictive d'Afrique, as the programme considerately explained), with its legs much pinker than nature, we should probably behold ; and we did not despair of monkeys, which indeed we had already scented in the air. An agreeable flutter pervaded the little town ; everybody was bidding everybody good morning in the street, the weather was beautiful, the sky had put on the identical blue of Murillo% great picture, a promising odour of cake went up from all the ovens where a species of pastry peculiar to Bourbonne and highly commendable was being baked on a large scale, and there was quite a procession of young laundresses carrying home thin and befiounced white muslin dresses, suspended from long sticks. The show of caps was dazzling, many of them trimmed with a beautiful lace made at Mirecourt, and covered with wonderful needlework. Several priests are at Baurbonne just now, and each has the privilege of officiating once a day, so there were many masses, beginning at five o'clock, and lastiug until midday. At eight the congregation was very large and in high spirits, and the little old church, dark and gloomy in general, was wonder- fully brightened up for this joyful occasion. I am sure some strange history attaches to the priests' vestments here, but I have not been able to get any information. They are curiously beautiful. The surplice worn yesterday by the vicaire is made of the finest muslin I ever saw so employed, and em- broidered nearly a yard deep with the harvest emblems in wonderful needlework. I never saw anything like the raising of the bunches of grapes, the curling of the vine tendrils, and the feathery grace of the bearded barley. It is a peculiarity here that we all catch cold simultaneously, and all get over it at the same time. Yester- day we had just begun a cold, and the sneezing in church was continuous and universal. Nobody coughed, everybody sneezed in volleys, which took a little from the effect of the vicaire's very nice sermon, but in no way disturbed the general gravity. The Suisse was a spectacle to behold. His uniform, of the finest and most vivid scarlet cloth, with very long tails, large pockets, tight sleeves, huge cuffs, and a profusion of gold braid, was evidently made, perhaps sixty years ago, for a much larger man, and the effect is ludicrous, especially as the sleeves are too tight, whereas the garment is, in other places, quite unaffectedly " taken in" with pins. But the dignity of our Suisse is not to be affected by such trifles ; he is slightly fierce, deeply preoccupied, and he lets his halberd drop on the stone floor with a decision which makes one start, if it be anywhere near one's toes. It is easy to see that many of the adjoining villagers have come in, and as the congrega- tion disperses, I hear exulting prognostications of the difficulty of getting into the gardens in the afternoon, and of encombrement in the hotels. Of these edifices it is the custom to speak figuratively.
At twelve, a grand carillon rings out, the deep, sweet tones of the ancient bells fill the bright air with a pathetic vibration which brings tears to one's eyes, and everybody goes to breakfast. No- thing remarkable in the way of toilettes yet, and a kind of general consent to ignore the fact that it is fete for the present, until we
all meet by and by, as if we had not seen each other to-day before, under the limes and acacias. A capital opportunity of judging of the progress of the patients,—for everybody who could walk, or limp, or drag himself or herself there anyhow, would certainly visit the promenade Orfeuil. I have seen an old picture somewhere of the halt and lame hobbling down to the pool of Siloam, and I was reminded of it yesterday'. At one corner of the promenade, abutting on the street, there is a little fountain, and as we watched the people going down the hill, it seemed to be their destination. There they were, trudging bravely, even merrily, on crutches, with canes, some with artificial legs, preternaturally stiff and shapely, all looking content and pleased, and with such sun- shine, and such musical rustling among the trees, that the groups of villagers could not get over it, and discussed the weather just like Britons.
The succession of attractions of this memorable day did not permit us to lack even that delicious sense of not having time enough to do it all in essential to pleasure. First the beasts and the shows generally, then the thanksgiving procession to be seen after vespers, then the gardens and the music, an odious interlude of dinner, followed by the illuminations and the ball. A tremendous beating of drums and shouting inseparable from peep- shows announced the proceedings of the fair, so we hurried away to Orfeuil. Such an amusing scene, and so orderly ! We took our places in the queue, at the entrance of the central booth,—a splendid place ; none of your green baize and rough planks about it, but handsome drapery of Oriental design, with lace curtains, and star-spangled banners, and pots of artificial flowers at regular intervals all rouad. This is the Museum of Illus- trated History, and you study its glories by applying your eye to a succession of oblong pieces of glass inserted in the wall. Impossible to give you an idea of the gravity and politeness of the people as they trooped slowly by. We were delighted with the pictures, which embraced an immense variety of subjects and very original schools of art. The taking of the Bastille, the populace at work at the Champ de Mars, the Oath upon the Altar of the Country ; the burning of the Tuileries, the Hotel de Ville, and the Palais de Justice ; scenes on the fortifications during the siege, several figurative Republics, and touching scenes of fraternity, the 4th September in many aspects of ignominy (it is strange how these people love to reproduce the event of Sedan, now that they are comfortably convinced that the blame may be thrown on one man), and the ascent of many balloons, whose passengers look much too happy to be natural. Round we go, leisurely, no one pushing, no one hurrying ; an old man in a blouse asks me which is the Louvre, in the great picture of Paris, and pulls off his cap while I try to make him distinguish the various build- ings; and our two sous are received at the sortie by a lady in a silk gown and a beautiful cap, who extends for that purpose a gold- worked velvet bag. On we go to the next, a Theatre of Instruc- tion, surmounted by a line of pictures of surprising diversity. In the middle is the Crucifixion of Our Lord ; on the right the taking of Saarbriick, and the wounding of Marshal MacMahon ; on the left, General Garibaldi charging straight down an unfathomable precipice, and a really well executed picture of the burial of a young franc-tireur. Then there are all sorts of games ; a gorgeous merry- go-round, with the horses in armour, with plumed heads ; a wheel of fortune, surrounded by an absorbed and silent crowd ; a tir aux lapins, which we carefully avoid ; and a tir au pistolet, taking place in a superb booth, which we are also going to pass by, when we catch a glimpse of a face we have been watching with interest for weeks, and the young officer whom I have before men- tioned calls to us joyously to come and see his prizes. He has been getting better daily, and now he has quite discarded his carriage and his rug, and limps about ever so actively by the aid of a crutch and a cane. There is a little colour in his face, and his gaiety is charming and infectious. He sits all day long in the garden, reading, talking, playing chess, and in the evenings keeps me company, while the people who are young and have available legs are walking about or dancing. He tells me about the war and his eamarades, about his mother, of course, and has good sense and mod- esty enough to redeem a whole regiment of blagueurs. We wonder at his good spirits, but he says, "With patience and gaiety one goes far." Yes, but it takes a good deal of both to sit still contentedly. He shoulders his crutch and shows how fields were lost most candidly. He was in four battles, and three combats (I don't understand the distinction, but he insists upon it), and he was quite delighted to have carried off a little heap of prizes at the tir. He had never shot with a pistol before, he explained (revolvers don't count), and there he was, the envied possessor of a green grass candlestick, a snuffers-tray (without the snuffers, —they form a separate prize), a pair of garters, a little shoe snuff-box, and a Gallic cock in red sugar, with a rapidly developing tendency
to dissolve in the sun. From the fair we hurried away to see the procession start from the old church porch after vespers, and it was a very pretty sight as a troop of young girls in white dresses and veils came out, carrying banners, followed by the priests and choristers, and respectfully accompanied by the crowd. The banners are curiously beautiful, especially that of the Holy
Trinity, and that of the harvest. The first reposoir was in front of the ancient statue of Notre Dame de Bon Secours de Bourbonne, where the old walls were covered in with waving green boughs, and grasses, and flowers. Here thanks were returned for the blessing of a bounteous harvest, and then the procession wound its way down the steep hill to the fountain in front of the Hospital, where there was a second reposoir. Here a hymn of praise for the healing water was solemnly sung, and the procession returned to the church, delivered up the banners, and dispersed, all flocking into the gardens, where there was plenty of room for them.
Then appeared the toilettes in all their glory. This is the Longchamps of Bonrbonne, and open admiration is the order of the day. We saw many pretty dresses, and one brave and enthu- siastic lady made the only political demonstration of the day by turning out in violet from her bonnet to her boots, declaring that she at least was determined to celebrate the Emperor's fete. There is an artist in hair at Bourbonne, whose services my sister bespoke for this occasion, on which it is the custom to go in one's hair' to the rooms. The artist arrived in the evening, looking very hot and nervous, and broke ground by declaring that he had not been prepared to find that Mademoiselle's plaits grew on her head, that he had never learned to plait in that fashion, that he could not do it, and that he could not explain to himself how anyone ever had done it. My sister tried a compromise,—if he would divide and brush her hair, and make the rolls, she would do the plaits herself. He took a brush in one hand, mopped his brow with a handker- chief held in the other, while I looked on with a pitiless eye. "Begin, then," I suggested, but he thought he would like to see how Mademoiselle did the plaits first. Never shall I forget the anxious and forlorn helplessness of that big man, as he stood be- hind her chair and watched her fingers weaving the hair, now mopping his forehead, now uttering "Mon Dieu!" unconsciously. "See, that is how it is done. I have given you a lesson ; you will know how to do it next time." " Jamais, Mademoiselle," he re- plied, in tones of deepest tragedy, " je ne pourrais pas. Ces coiffures lh resteront b. tout jamais trop difficiles pour moi." Then he sighed deeply, laid down the brush, with which he had not touched my sister's hair, gave his forehead an angry dab, and saying, with a sad bow, "Mesdames, j'y renonce, et je vous salue," he went out of the room, and was half-way down the interminable staircase before I had recovered presence of mind enough to present him with a franc. "Do you think anything like my giving a hair- dresser a lesson in plaiting, and his not even touching my hair, ever happened before?" my sister asked me, when I returned. "Only when Messrs. Dixon and Dilke escorted the mail," I re- plied. We saw him among the crowd at the ball-room door afterwards, searching wistfully for that incomprehensible coiffure among the ranks of the spectators, and were sorry to know that there was one heavy heart there, at all events.
The illuminations were highly successful, the paper lanterns were of the most brilliant colours, and they burned for two hours at least. The ball was exceedingly animated, and I observed many patients who had hitherto confined themselves to the lancers at the utmost plunged wildly into the schottisch. When all the candles were nearly burned out, and the band were to a man asleep, the dancing came to an end, crutches and canes were brought out of corners, and a large party of us returned to Madame G—'s, with a strong escort of the " jolliest " cripples ever beheld off a 'signboard. We have taken leave to-day of the place and the people, for to-morrow we are once more to be hoisted into the vehicle which recalls the memory of Pierrotin, and to be trundled and bumped away to La Ferte-Bourbon.—F. C. H.
Previous page
