Holidays in Eastern France | Page 6

he gave him sugar-plums, kisses,
and finally his blessing. Very likely the innocent prattling of the child
was as welcome to the old man as the sweetmeats to the little one on
his knee.
The terraces of the Episcopal garden cross the ancient walls of the city,
and underneath the boulevards afford a promenade almost as pleasant.
It must be admitted that much more pains are taken in France to
embellish provincial towns with shady walks and promenades than in
England. The tiniest little town in Seine et Marne has its promenades,
that is to say, an open green space and avenues with benches for the
convenience of passers-by. We cannot, certainly, sit out of doors as
much as our French neighbours in consequence of our more changeable
climate, but might not pleasant public squares and gardens, with bands
playing gratuitously on certain evenings in the week in country towns,
entice customers from the public-house? The traveller is shown the
handsome private residences of rich Meldois, where in the second week
of September, 1870, were lodged the Emperor of Germany, the Prince
Frederick Charles, and Prince Bismarck. Meaux, if one of the most
prosperous, is also one of the most liberal of French cities, and has
been renowned for its charity from early times. In the thirteenth century
there were no fewer than sixty Hôtels-Dieu, as well as hospitals for
lepers in the diocese, and at the present day it is true to its ancient
traditions, being abundantly supplied with hospitals, &c.
Half-an-hour from Meaux by railway is the pretty little town of La
Ferté-sous-Jouarre, coquettishly perched on the Marne, and not yet
rendered unpoetic by the hum and bustle of commerce. Here, even
more than at Meaux, the material well-being of all classes is especially
striking. You see the women sitting in their little gardens at
needle-work, the children trotting off to school, the men busied in their
respective callings, but all as it should be, no poverty, no dirt, no
drunkenness, no discontent; cheerfulness, cleanliness, and good clothes
are evidently everybody's portion. Yet it is eminently a working
population; there are no fashionable ladies in the streets, no
nursery-maids with over-dressed charges on the public walks; the men

wear blue blouses, the women cotton gowns, all belonging to one class,
and have no need to envy any others.
Close to the railway-station is a little house, where I saw an instance of
the comfort enjoyed by these unpretentious citizens of this thrifty little
town. The landlord, a particularly intelligent and well-mannered person,
was waiting upon his customers in a blue cotton coat, and the landlady
was as busy as could be in the kitchen. Both were evidently
accustomed to plenty of hard work, yet when she took me over the
house in order to show her accommodation for tourists, I found their
own rooms furnished with Parisian elegance. There were velvet sofas
and chairs, white-lace curtains, polished floors, mirrors, hanging
wardrobes, a sumptuous little bassinette for baby, and adjoining, as
charming a room for their elder daughter--a teacher in a day-school--as
any heiress to a large fortune could desire. This love of good furniture
and in-door comfort generally, seemed to me to speak much, not only
for the taste, but the moral tone of the family. Evidently to these good
people the home meant everything dearest to their hearts. You would
not find extravagance in food or dress among them, or most likely any
other but this: they work hard, they live frugally, but, when the day's
toil is done, they like to have pretty things around them, and not only to
repose but to enjoy.
La Ferté-sous-Jouarre is the seat of a large manufacture of millstones,
which are exported to all parts of the world, and it is a very thriving
little place. Large numbers of Germans are brought hither by commerce,
and now live again among their French neighbours as peacefully as
before the war. The attraction for tourists is, however, the twin-town of
Jouarre, reached by a lovely drive of about an hour from the little town.
Leaving the river, you ascend gradually, gaining at every step a richer
and wider prospect; below the blue river, winding between green banks,
above a lofty ridge of wooded hill, with hamlets dotted here and there
amid the yellow corn and luxuriant foliage. It is a bit of Switzerland,
and has often been painted by French artists. I can fancy no more
attractive field for a landscape-painter than this, who, provided he
could endure the perpetual noise of the stone-yards, would find no lack
of creature comforts.

The love of flowers and flower-gardens, so painfully absent in the West
of France, is here conspicuous. There are flowers everywhere, and
some of the little gardens give evidence of great skill and