CHAPTER I.

THE FAIR OF BEAUCAIRE

CHAPTER II.

THE FEAST OF ST. MAGDALEN

CHAPTER III.

LES ARÈNES

CHAPTER IV.

MY UNCLE CHAMBRUN

CHAPTER V.

THE PASSPORT

CHAPTER VI.

TRIAL BY FIRE

CHAPTER VII.

LA CROISSETTE

CHAPTER VIII.

PERSECUTED, YET NOT FORSAKEN

CHAPTER IX.

CAST DOWN, BUT NOT DESTROYED

CHAPTER X.

"MY NATIVE LAND, GOOD-NIGHT"

[Illustration]

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 assemble 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 Carcassonne,

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 preëngaged, 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, tassels, fringes, and flowers, till he was

quite a sight.

My father opened the day with family worship, 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 pass

through life without hearing and seeing much of evil: but, oh, keep them

unspotted by it! Let an atmosphere of sanctity 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 passed Les Arènes, 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 Réné smartly. And in another minute

we were thumping and bumping over great paving-stones, too noisily for

conversation to be carried on, and getting into a mêlée of carts,

wagons, and horsemen, 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 assure 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 cocoons, the superiority of good cocoons to

cocalons, dupions, and soufflons; which last, I need not tell you, are

very imperfect cocoons; dupions have two threads, and confuse one with

another; and pointed cocoons 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

cocoons 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 buttons, 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 assure 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.

Marguerite. At length the brother grew rather tired of his sister's

visits, and called them a waste of time. 'Henceforth, let it suffice

that I shall visit you occasionally, said he. 'When?' said St.

Marguerite. 'When the cherry-trees blossom,' said St Honorat. Thereupon,

St. Marguerite prayed that the cherry-trees might blossom once a month,

which they did; so her brother acknowledged himself outwitted."

"Fie for shame, daughter," said M. Bourdinave, with displeasure. "I am

grieved that you should remember and repeat such lying legends."

"Dear father, they exercise the fancy--"

"Exercise the fancy, indeed! Let fancy confine herself to her own

province. She is a good servant, but a bad mistress. The Jews exercised

their fancies in the wild Talmudical fables. What said our Saviour of

them? 'Ye make the word of God of none effect through your traditions.

Let me hear no more papistical fables."

Gabrielle hung her head, and stealing a glance that way, I saw Madeleine

pass her arm round her sister's waist, and look sweetly at her, which

made me think Madeleine more attractive than ever. M. Bourdinave did not

immediately recover his equanimity, but addressing my father, said it

more than ever behooved good Reformers to walk warily, and not give in

to any of the ensnaring practices of the surrounding Catholics. "Little

by little they are stealing in on us already," said he, "and, if our

sagacious men are to be believed, a time of trouble is preparing for us

that may perhaps not fall very short of the massacre on the day of St.

Bartholomew."

"Still," said my father, "we are under the protection of the Edict of

Nantes."

"Edicts may be set aside," said M. Bourdinave, in a lowered voice, which

yet I heard, being next him. "Only think how we have been annoyed and

injured the last two or three years, by edicts differing greatly from

the Edict of Nantes. That one, for instance, which rendered us liable to

the intrusion of Catholics into our temples, to spy at our observances,

pick up scraps of our sermons, and report them incorrectly. What

advantage the rabble have taken of it!"

"Too true," said my father, gravely.

"Last year," pursued M. Bourdinave, "that attempted confederacy for

mutual protection, when all our closed meetinghouses were reopened for

worship, showed what temper our adversaries were of."

"It was an ill-considered measure," said my father, slowly.

"Ill-conducted, rather," said M. Bourdinave. "The act should have been

simultaneous; whereas the want of concert among our people betrayed

their weakness, and laid them open to attack. The military at Bordeaux

acted with shocking barbarity."

"I do not like to think upon it," said my father. "I trust there will be

no recurrence of such lamentable scenes."

"I much fear there will be, though," said M. Bourdinave, gloomily.

"Satan desires to have us, that he may sift us like wheat. Let us hope

to abide the trial."

At this moment a burst of noisy music, drowned their voices; and the

needle-seller's horse, which was just before us, making a sudden start,

the poor needle-vendor was thrown off his balance, and jerked out of his

cart on to a heap of flints by the road-side, while his horse began to

kick. Giving the reins to my father, I jumped out, and ran to his

assistance; but he was so prickly all over, that it was difficult to lay

hold of him. His needles and pins ran into my fingers in a dozen places.

To make matters worse, his nose began to bleed, so that he was in a

pitiable plight. However, I picked him up at last, found he was not

seriously injured, gave him a clean handkerchief (which he promised to

return), and started him off again in his cart, in a sitting position

this time, and much crestfallen.

The throng increased as we approached Beaucaire, and when we got into

the streets there was frequently a complete stoppage. Oh, what a lively

scene it was! and what a noise! Music playing, bells ringing, people

talking at the top of their voices. What joyous meetings! what hearty

welcomes! what various smells of fried fish, hot soups, and roast meats!

Truly, the Fair of Beaucaire exceeded my liveliest imaginings, and yours

will certainly never come up to it.

The fair, you have perhaps heard, is held on a wide open ground between

the Rhone and the castle rock. This space was covered with streets of

booths and sheds, in which all kinds of merchandise were displayed.

The river was choked with heavily-freighted barges. As for the streets,

they were hung from their upper windows with the richest tapestries;

silks, damasks, velvets, and goldsmiths' work were displayed in the

richest abundance; the most costly valuables exposed, almost at the

mercy of jostling wayfarers; banners flaunting overhead, and casting

fleeting shadows beneath. Languages of all nations mingled in strange

medley--German, Spanish, Italian, Turkish, Arabic, Russian. Ah, it was

like a dream!

My uncle Nicolas received us most heartily; and, while my father and

M. Bourdinave went about their affairs, I had the pleasing charge of the

women, and showing them what was to be seen. My mother, with a child

in each hand, Madeleine and I, each with another child, Gabrielle and

old Alice close behind us, formed such a phalanx that we made way for

ourselves, or had it made for us, wherever we went, and saw everything

we wanted to see. We even saw the dentist, and Alice would not be foiled

this time, but almost thrust herself on his notice. He made her sit on

the ground, put her head between his knees and dragged out the tooth by

main force. She screamed horribly, and said, "You engaged to give no

pain!" "To myself," said he, "but I could not engage for you." So there

was the laugh against her. However, the tooth was out, and he generously

gave it to her; so we walked away laughing.