The Pomp of the Lavilettes | Page 2

first, the
method I pursued instinctively; on the basis that dealing with a smaller
subject--with what one might call a genre picture first, I should get well
into my field, and acquire greater familiarity with my material than I

should have if I attempted the larger work at once.
This is not to say that the smaller work was immature. On the contrary,
I believe that at least these shorter works are quite mature in their
treatment and in their workmanship and design. Naturally, however,
they made less demand on all one's resources, they were narrower in
scope and less complicated, than the longer works, like 'The Seats of
the Mighty', which made heavier call upon the capacities of one's art.
The only occasion on which I have not preceded a very long novel of
life in a new field, by a very short one, is in the writing of 'The
Judgment House'. For this book, however, it might be said, that all the
last twenty years was a preparation, since the scenes were scenes in
which I had lived and moved, and in a sense played a part; while the
ten South African chapters of the book placed in the time of the Natal
campaign needed no pioneer narrative to increase familiarity with the
material, the circumstances and the country itself. I knew it all from
study on the spot.
From The 'Pomp of the Lavilettes', with which might be associated 'The
Lane That Had no Turning', to 'The Right of Way', was a natural
progression; it was the emergence of a big subject which must be
treated in a large bold way, if it was to succeed. It succeeded to a
degree which could not fail to gratify any one who would rather have a
wide audience than a contracted one, who believes that to be popular is
not necessarily to be contemptible--as the ancient Pistol put it, "base,
common and popular."

THE POMP OF THE LAVILETTES
CHAPTER I
You could not call the place a village, nor yet could it be called a town.
Viewed from the bluff, on the English side of the river, it was a long
stretch of small farmhouses--some painted red, with green shutters,
some painted white, with red shutters--set upon long strips of land,
green, yellow, and brown, as it chanced to be pasture land, fields of

grain, or "plough-land."
These long strips of property, fenced off one from the other, so narrow
and so precise, looked like pieces of ribbon laid upon a wide quilt of
level country. Far back from this level land lay the dark, limestone hills,
which had rambled down from Labrador, and, crossing the River St.
Lawrence, stretched away into the English province. The farmhouses
and the long strips of land were in such regular procession, it might
almost have seemed to the eye of the whimsical spectator that the
houses and the ribbon were of a piece, and had been set down there,
sentinel after sentinel, like so many toy soldiers, along the banks of the
great river. There was one important break in the long line of precise
settlement, and that was where the Parish Church, about the middle of
the line, had gathered round it a score or so of buildings. But this only
added to the strength of the line rather than broke its uniformity. Wide
stretches of meadow-land reached back from the Parish Church until
they were lost in the darker verdure of the hills.
On either side of the Parish Church, with its tall, stone tower, were two
stout-built houses, set among trees and shrubbery. They were low set,
broad and square, with heavy-studded, old-fashioned doors. The roofs
were steep and high, with dormer windows and a sort of shelf at the
gables.
They were both on the highest ground in the whole settlement, a little
higher than the site of the Parish Church. The one was the residence of
the old seigneur, Monsieur Duhamel; the other was the Manor
Casimbault, empty now of all the Casimbaults. For a year it had lain
idle, until the only heir of the old family, which was held in high
esteem as far back as the time of Louis Quinze, returned from his
dissipations in Quebec to settle in the old place or sell it to the highest
bidder.
Behind the Manor Casimbault and the Seigneury, thus flanking the
church at reverential distance, another large house completed the acute
triangle, forming the apex of the solid wedge of settlement drawn about
the church. This was the great farmhouse of the Lavilettes, one of the
most noticeable families in the parish.

Of the little buildings bunched beside the church, not the least
important was the post-office, kept by Papin Baby, who was also
keeper of the bridge